AN: Currently 12 Advanced Chapters on my Patreon
https://www.patreon.com/cw/Crimson_Reapr
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Anahrin forced Mark to keep on practicing and understanding a ship's propulsion systems and how to maximize everything to a certain degree within what the current levels of technology would allow. His condition wasn't much worse than it had been before, but he had found himself growing more tired as the days of teaching went by, a problem he had only dealt with when he took the tests to be licensed as a ship crafter.
For Anahrin to take the next steps in Mark's lessons, he had to first strip away the safety net that human systems had created for interstellar travel. He started by taking Mark into the virtual space and into simulations. Once in there, he took away the data of Navy charts by replacing the clean interfaces along with pre-plotted jump points that had been so key for Mark to navigate the sea of stars. Instead, Mark now had to deal with cobbled-up data and a mess of numbers that were supposed to be coordinates. He forced Mark to stare at all this raw data and just try to figure things out on his own.
At first, it was an impossible task for Mark. He wasn't a navigation expert; hell, those had started to become obsolete as ships' navigation systems advanced. This caused Mark's eyes to burn and his head to ache with confusion, and just when he was about to complain, Anahrin started to break things down for him.
"Human travel largely depends on pre-designated routes," he said. "It is my personal belief that a ship crafter must master the void, seeing the patterns for themselves before they can make a machine worthy of gracing the stars."
Mark wrestled with the ideas and the data day after day. Anahrin's lessons taught him about how gravitational wells bent paths, how drift compounded over light-years, and Anahrin would always reiterate how the tiniest miscalculation could send a ship off course forever. The more Mark worked, the more he began to anticipate the answers before the computer got the chance to render them. Navigation had been broken down to him, from the action of just inputting coordinates to learning how to read the environment, to predict the outcome, and to understand just how oddly space behaved under the stress of a ship moving through it.
Anahrin did not let Mark fully settle into the depths of navigation; immediately shifting his lessons to computer systems when Mark had just gotten the hang of navigation. Mark had assumed that with the complexities of schematics and coding, they would be spending weeks, two months at the very least, just learning the coding language. However, he was surprised to find himself being able to process the information much smoothly, having a perfect recall of everything he was learning, along with the discovery of a photographic memory that allowed him to recall the most intricate of details from Anahrin's lessons.
Mark soon found himself being thrown into training combat simulations, something he thought he would have felt more familiar with due to his former education in the Stellanova Naval Academy, an experience he had found himself being able to recall with clarity with every passing day. However, he found that he was out of his element in these training simulations. Anahrin had thrown him a curveball, as he felt like the opposing forces in the simulation were just cheating their asses off. He was assaulted with entire fleets blinking on and off his radar without any energy levels that would indicate a jump sequence had been initiated.
He had chalked it up to it just being a bug within the simulations, but then he was faced with signals that would mimic the radar signatures of friendly vessels until they opened fire on him. He was forced to combat against viruses that would attempt to rewrite his commands mid-execution. His training and instincts as a captain were clearly failing him, as he would find himself reacting too late or even second-guessing the data he would receive.
"This is some bullshit," Mark said, frustration mounting after getting his ship destroyed for the 139th time. "I don't know what it is you think you're trying to teach me, but these are just events that would never happen in real space. A fleet disappearing without a single ripple in their radar signature? Another one appearing out of the blue without any readings isn't just an anomaly, it is outright im-fucking-possible. And don't even get me started on the viruses. Like, who the fuck even thinks these are things that could happen?"
Anahrin chuckled at Mark's display of frustration. "You are just beginning to learn of all the possible outcomes that you could come across in the void of space. There are definitely viruses in the remnants of advanced, yet long-gone civilizations that would cripple entire fleets within seconds. You also rely too much on the information that is given to you, ignoring the fact that machines aren't always 100% accurate. Sure, maybe I bumped up the odds of some impossible things happening more often than not, but that doesn't mean that machines won't lie to you. They commit mistakes just like living beings because their creators are imperfect beings, and well, perfection cannot rise from imperfection. You can try to get as close as possible to it, but it is a mere fact that perfection will never be achieved. It is a fact that the most trustworthy results are ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent accurate because one hundred percent is merely a goalpost, one that is always moving with every new result. You must learn to see through the lies or the incorrect code from a machine."
This took much longer than learning to code for Mark. It was weeks before Mark began to catch onto the small inconsistencies within the data the machines spewed out. He realized that all sensor pings have a slight irregularity to them, the radar picking up the signatures of a fleet moving in a way that no real commander ever would. He learned to beat the simulations that had been designed to mislead him by anticipating tricks before they unfolded, reading his enemies by their slight shifts in maneuvers before they acted.
Once he had learned to read through the enemy, Anahrin stopped the simulations and moved Mark back into learning what made things work and how they worked. From radars to thermal arrays and gravitational scans, Mark relearned tools he thought he understood.
Anahrin tore his assumptions down with his teachings. "Humanity's Navy trains its ship captains to trust what is most obvious to them, and that, my student, is one of the worst things you can do. It is the first step in damning you, your crew, and your ship."
These lessons had Mark spending hours sifting through feeds in an attempt to find the faint distortions Anahrin insisted were there. Mark had come to trust in Anahrin's teachings, and if he said that there was something there, then it was because there was; Mark just couldn't see it. At first, all of the data just seemed like a random mess full of noise. But that noise slowly gave way as he started to spot subtle shifts in the data he was being given.
"There is a slight bend in this one gravitational scan," he said to Anahrin, who simply nodded. "It's like the faint leak of power from something. Maybe this data is indicating that there is a stealth ship hiding somewhere in the direction of the scan?"
"Correct," Anahrin confirmed Mark's suspicions of the reading.
Mark had started to get the hang of things and slowly found himself being surprised, not in what he found, but in the things he had learned to miss. The data Anahrin would provide him would have empty spots, blind zones, and gaps in an environment that was simply not natural. Anahrin had taught Mark that there is more information in the absence of data than there was in the presence of it.
Mapping was able to build upon the lessons Mark was getting. Human charts would normally show neat systems with fixed jump points. However, Anahrin showed him that every single system was like a shifting puzzle where planets were just simple dots or floating rocks. Rather, they could serve as obstacles, as opportunities, and with the right set of circumstances, as leverage. He learned that planetary orbits weren't just background noise or something, that if you were close enough within a planet's orbit, then you could mask a ship's signature to spring a trap or escape.
After some weeks of learning, Anahrin shifted topics to work with a ship's defenses.
"Defense is control," he said. "Not just of your hull, but of the enemy's perception, their access, their confidence."
Mark expected Anahrin to teach him about shields and armor, the usual teaching tropes of the navy. He was very confused and surprised when Anahrin began by stripping those assumptions bare.
"Plating is what you add when you do not trust your design to work the way you intend it to," Anahrin said, taking a moment to cough before gesturing to a projection of one of the IUC's most prized destroyers, Thor's Hammer. The bow (front) of Thor's Hammer is a long, rectangular wedge, flat along the top and bottom with hard, right-angled edges. Thor's Hammer carries a bulky, utilitarian "stacked boxes" design where each deck feels like it was bolted on top of another. The bridge structure rises out of the center-top like a tiered command tower, giving it a layered and stepped silhouette.
The midsection is the broadest slab of the ship, housing the gun batteries that stick out in squat, turret-like housings along the dorsal (top) and ventral (bottom) planes, adding to the impression of modular, rectangular compartments. Toward the stern (back), the hull narrows slightly before breaking into a cluster of angular thruster blocks, engines arranged in a squared-off pack that glow blue with even the exhaust ports following the geometric rule of squared housings around circular cores.
Overall, Thor's Hammer resembled a rectangular brick with stepped layers, bristling with little cube-like turrets and a squat tower. Its bright racing blue hull paint softens none of that, making the ship appear like it was made by stacking Legos of war.
"This is a ship that was built for the pure practicality of war, with not a single curve on it." Anahrin said, unbridled disgust in his words. "The entire thing is a slab of straight lines and flat planes of stacked armor that shows just how allergic its engineers were to adding elegance to practicality. Amror is the last line of desperation, not a plan. True defense begins long before the first round is even fired."
The hologram shifted, exposing cross-sections of hulls and their underlying frames. Anahrin highlighted weak seams where engineers had cut corners, welding layers of protection onto already inefficient structures. "Humanity builds its ships like castles, just layers of walls upon walls that do nothing but redirect where the rail slugs will punch through. This just makes the ships heavier, and weight forces a compromise. The heavier the ship, the less flexible its responses, the longer the turn time, the easier to kill."
Mark frowned. "So you're saying that armor is just a waste of material and ships should be made thinner? But that would just make them more fragile."
Anahrin gave a sharp shake of his head. "Not thinner. Smarter."
Anahrin's hand swept across the hologram, the floating image of Thor's Hammer shifting, its rectangular hull morphing as if under the stroke of a sculptor's chisel. The great slabs of armor bent inward, angled planes replacing flat walls. The ship's bulk transformed, no longer a brick of war, but a faceted beast with a hull made up of sharp lines.
"Angling," Anahrin said, his hand gesturing to the armor plates. "It was an art Humanity understood long before they ever slipped free of their gravity wells. Looking into human history, I was able to see that they had large machines of war operated by small crews of three to five called Tanks. They would utilize angled armor so that impact had to do more than pierce, forcing it to fight against the geometry itself."
The projection spun, showing rounds striking flat sections of hull and punching through like arrows through paper. Then, with a flick of his fingers, he tilted the hull, and the rounds glanced, their paths diverted into harmless trails of light.
"As you and I both know, space is far from being empty. It is filled with pirates, mercenaries, and other races with ships that can kill someone faster than they can blink. Against that, a flat wall is nothing more than a death sentence. Armor is not about how much you pile on; it's about how you prepare to take on the strike of an opposing force, whether that be through deflection or dissipation. It determines survival."
Mark studied the angled facings, the shifting lines. The design looked meaner, as if the ship itself had a look of danger. But something gnawed at him. "I understand what you're saying. I remember tanks, I loved them. But I also know that there must be a reason for them to have done away with angling. You angle a hull like that, and you lose space. Less room for reactors, less room for crew, less room for… well, everything."
Anahrin smiled thinly, his frame folding as he leaned in close. "Yes, it is a choice that Humanity has refused to make for centuries. But tell me, what is the worth of spacious decks if every slug will tear through them? Which is better, Mark? A vessel that feels like a fortress, only to be slaughtered, or one that feels more claustrophobic, yet will survive the slugfest?"
The hologram flickered as two designs stood side by side: The blocky fortress of Thor's Hammer and a quickly put-together, angled counterpart whose sleek and jagged outline made it seem predatory. Something seemed to click in Mark's mind as it processed things. He could see the logic, but also the burden of angled armor on a ship. Humanity seemed to have also seen it and chose comfort, ease of maintenance, and space for systems. Anahrin was suggesting to throw that all away and build ships that could function as homes amongst the stars, but were primarily weapons sharpened for survival within the dangerous void of space.
Anahrin coughed dryly, but his eyes were as sharp as ever. "Mark, armor isn't simply something for protection. It is a language, one that the engineers of humanity seem to have forgotten. However, I will ensure that you do not."
Anahrin's words lingered in the air between the two of them, feeling heavier than the past couple of months Mark had spent learning about data and computation. Mark found himself staring at the angled hull projection that Anahrin had cobbled up, wondering not just how it would feel to walk through its halls. He was able to see something he hadn't seen before in a ship. It wasn't just a mode of transport, it was a weapon, its shape like a spear. It would be the weapon he would use to get back at whoever had been the person who caused everyone in his fleet to die. Anahrin broke Mark's thoughts as he waved his hands, causing the models to fracture into a thousand glowing shards before they started to slowly and meticulously reform into one.
"Watch how the angled version would be structured," Anahrin said, his voice just above a whisper.
The ship's broad, rectangular bow folded inward, flat planes becoming angled surfaces. The armor was rearranged in compressed facets. Layer after layer unfolded before Mark's eyes, not as single plates of armor, but as a composite sandwich of alternating dense alloys, ceramics, and energy-dispensing foams. To Mark, it was as if he was watching the live creation of the turret cheeks of the now ancient Challenger 2 tank. Everything was thin enough to shed unnecessary weight, yet angled enough to welcome any incoming strike.
"As you may have noticed, each and every single layer serves its purpose," Anahrin said as he highlighted the cross-sections. "One stops the penetrating round, the other breaks its velocity, and the next catches the spalling, or the broken fragments of the round. When you angle all of these fragments together, then each round is forced to do the work of twenty. The slug will end up ricocheting elsewhere, at the very least not penetrating at all."
The design of Thor's Hammer slimmed significantly as its main batteries, which were once bolted onto its midsection, were moved around, sliding deeper into the hull, with some being taken out completely. The squat tower of a bridge was also melted into a low-sloped profile, almost looking like the ship had been given eyes. What had once been a flying brick had not resembled something else; the tip of a blade. It was a work of art.
"You see?" Anahrin asked as he traced his clawlike fingers around the new outline. "There isn't a single wasted box, no indulgent angles, and every single plane serves a purpose. This is what humanity abandoned when they shifted to crafting those bulky things. Hell, even the dreadnaught that's been sitting in orbit for the past couple of months is shaped like a brick. Humanity wanted their ships to be homes, palaces, temples of their vanity, a decorative and symbolic sword of their egos, forgetting that decorative swords are still swords."
Mark studied the design more closely this time. It looked similar to the previous design Anahrin had cobbled up earlier, but this one felt more dangerous. It was longer, a little, but wider, and its bow was flat before spreading out in its angled forms, a single rail cannon sleekly hidden, barely protruding from the flat part. It had lost its number of weapons, but judging it by the rail cannon alone, it had clearly gone up a few levels in lethality.
"Now... I want you to test it in a simulation," Anahrin said, his eyes gleaming as he stared down at Mark, who simply nodded.
The simulation reformed as two fleets facing each other across the void appeared, Mark at the helm of the remade Thor's Hammer. In the vast horizon, tiny specks lit up the dark as enemy guns fired. Rail slugs screamed toward his ship, and Mark braced for the same gut punch he had experienced when he had been aboard the Perseverance, the rending of flat armor being smacked.
However, the punch he was expecting didn't come. It was more like a slight shove downward as the slugs impacted the top side of the hull and skittered. The impacts sparked and darkened the racing blue color of the hull, ricocheting into the vast expanse. A few of the slugs managed to penetrate the first slayer, but they found themselves being buried into the composite armor, causing the ship to shudder lightly, but it held on. As they closed the distance, some of the enemy ships opened fire with their lasers, but they only splashed along the angled plates, leaving no more than the charring of the ship's paint.
Mark was at the controls of the ship and maneuvered the ship to move down, below the bows of the enemy ships, before aiming its hull up slightly. The prototype of Thor's Hammer responded faster than expected, now free from what was excess weight. Mark gave the orders to fire the main rail cannon. The gunners gave a 10-second countdown to fire it, meanwhile using the other batteries to fire. They were fewer, but the angles and their placement gave them better firing arcs into the bottom of the enemy ship's bows. After a few seconds, the main cannon fired, giving the ship a slight push back, slowing it down a little bit.
Mark zoomed in on the ship that he had fired on, an identical replica of the normal Thor's Hammer. The round went straight through the flat front of its bow and ripped out through the bridge, heading off to the right. Mark realized, with a rush of adrenaline, that the old design hadn't been a fortress; it had been a coffin waiting to be closed.
Anahrin's voice sounded in the simulation, hoarse but exultant: "Lethality and elegance are not opposites, Mark. They are kin. Armor must not be heavy; it must be wise. Do you understand it now?"
Mark swallowed, his hands tight on the controls. He did. For the first time, he wasn't just surviving in a simulation, but rather, he was commanding the outcome of a battle in one. Mark came out of the simulation with a smile that Anahrin reciprocated.
Without even knowing it, 5 months had passed since Mark had fallen through into Anahrin's factory and care.