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Description

"Project Pixie" (364-370 / 2295-2305) was one of the Martian Alliance’s more curious initiatives within the last century, aiming to produce miniaturized "micro" warships with capabilities comparable to existing vessels, but in a lower-mass package. Officially, Project Pixie's primary goal was to probe and appraise the then-existing limits of Alliance miniaturization capabilities and learn lessons which could be applied to more conventional-sized warships. However, the so-called “Reform Study Group” faction of officers and engineers within the Fleet Corps held out hope for the bizarre vision of a future Martian fleet of tiny, super-powerful warships which would dominate the future battlespace. Despite efforts by the RSG to expand their influence in the Assembly, their vision of adopting these tiny warship test beds as military spacecraft was not accepted at the time. Still, Pixie prototypes did indeed provide valuable lessons for the mass-modernization of the Alliance fleet at the turn of the 24th century, after a prolonged period of peace had many wondering if 23rd century procurement policy had gone soft. In the end, most of the Pixies were either scrapped or donated to museums by 373 (2311)[1].

That should have been where the story ended. But this is the story of the Aeshna-class "micro-kinetistar", which began life as the “Pixie-KS”, an attempt to shrink the capabilities of the old, venerable but decidedly oversized Adderbolt-class, down into as small a package as possible. Coming in at a mere 84 meters in height and only 4,845 tonnes, compared to the Adderbolt’s 441 meters and mass of 80,000 tonnes, the Pixie-KS did in fact achieve the first half of its objective. The second half, providing the same capabilities as its predecessor in a smaller package, proved much more challenging. Contracting out to Ohara Laconix's Kidman Design Bureau on Vryheid Station in orbit above Mars, the Pixie-KS started with a radical miniaturization of the Adderbolt's ED-0 heavy railgun, a beastly weapon capable of slinging projectiles at speeds approaching 3,000 km/s and impact yields of 3.5 megatons. The resulting “ED-0 Micro” was one-tenth the length of the original, but three times as robust and theoretically could handle the immense electrical currents required to reach 3.5 megatons of kinetic energy. Or not. Ohara’s engineers were only able to scrape one single kiloton of power with the Micro, and even that was only possible after hooking it up to the highly-temperamental Ohara Nova-S lightbulb drive, a gas-core nuclear-thermal rocket which had already been rejected by the Fleet Corps for its corsair upgrades in the late 350s (early 2280s). All 306 Nova-S drives were nearly approved for destruction before they were added to Project Pixie’s approved parts list at the last minute. The most powerful bi-modal fission NTR drive available to Ohara Laconix which fit within the Pixie-KS’ mass limit of 5,000 tonnes, the Nova-S was, and remains, infamous for its original instability, owing to the remarkably thin reactor shielding, a byproduct of attempting to increase output while lowering mass at the same time. However, the Nova-S was the only thing KDB could think of that could provide both propulsion and energy for the main gun that could compare to the Adderbolt’s performance while remaining under the mass budget, and still couldn’t measure up. Speaking of, the Pixie-KS also lacked a magazine. Instead, it has a maximum capacity of nineteen M122 kinetic penetrators, each weighing seven tonnes, mounted on a conveyor belt along the outside of the ship, which are manually loaded into an opening breach via robotic arm. And then there was the crew module, added onto the side of the craft almost as an afterthought. No centrifuge, unarmored to save on mass, four crewmen (captain, pilot, co-pilot, gunnery officer) were to work inside a crowded can, with the absolute bare minimum life-support. Indeed, under simulated combat conditions, Pixie-KS crews had to don O2 masks, because power was automatically diverted from the active life-support to the main gun, due to KDB choosing to save mass by skimping on batteries and having the active life-support system run on the main reactor, meaning the Pixie-KS was not built with emergency backup power for active life-support. Additionally, there were no chairs, no bunks apart from sleeping bags (literally purchased from a sporting goods store) screwed into the walls, no panels or housings on any of the electronics, exterior cameras which were not military-grade (purchased from the same store as the sleeping bags), polished metal instead of proper mirrors on the periscopes, no figurehead due to the necessary brain-cores being too heavy at the time, and scores of other features lacking in an effort by KDB to remain below the mass limit and keep production costs as low as possible. The Pixie-KS also lacked the sensor and targeting suite of its Adderbolt ancestor, meaning over distances longer than 1,000 kilometers, it was practically blind and required spotters with better sensors to radio coordinates to the craft’s gunnery officer.

Following completion and test flights, the Pixie-KS crews quoted their experiences as “nightmarish”. However, innovations developed under the challenging conditions of Project Pixie meant features from the Pixie-KS were still integrated into the Zygonyx-class kinetistar, a warship much larger than the Pixie-KS but still substantially smaller and lighter than the Adderbolt, which would be revealed to the public on Sagittarius 7th 375 (2314) after being developed in secret by KDB’s team, who were relieved at no longer being forced to stay under 5,000 tonnes. Notably, the Zygonyx-class incorporates an external magazine and manual-loading system via robotic arm, similar to the Pixie-KS.

Again, this should have been the end of the line for the Pixie-KS, which was delivered to Vryheid Station Spaceship Museum on Hebi 3rd 373 (August 11th 2311), where it is still on display today.

Enter General Daisuke Vander. General Vander was a hero of the Scyllarus War, where his command of the Belt Fleet at the Battle of Klotho was defined by masterful orchestration of three Zygonyx-class kinetistars under his command. Retiring early from active duty and successfully winning his election to the Praefectory in 377 (2319), Vander became a key member of the Assembly’s New Reform Study Group in 380 (2324), a successor to the earlier RSG, which had semi-successfully revived the idea of the “Pixie Fleet”. The source of the NSRG’s success in gaining influence involves a lot of boring and esoteric Martian Assembly politics and many old chickens from the Fleet Corps’ procurement section coming home to roost, but suffice it to say, Vander’s war-hero endorsement of the NSRG and much more magnetic charisma compared to the scrawny nerds in the group, pushed Bill 461670 just barely over the line with 54% of the vote in the Praefectory on Cancer 16th 393 (October 15th 2350). What was that, exactly? Well, after being ratified by the President a day later, it approved the NSRG’s agenda to reassess Pixie concepts which were by now almost ten annums old [2].

As bizarre as this may have seemed, it was not entirely unfounded. For instance, the Zygonyx-class, while an improvement in terms of mass from the Adderbolt-class, was still quite large, and many had called for a smaller, more lightweight kinetistar which could bring firepower where it was needed without all the necessary logistics of a larger vessel - a “tactical” rather than “strategic” kinetistar. And indeed, while the Pixie-KS would have been an unsafe horror to serve aboard, advances in technology made since Project Pixie now allowed for older designs to be given new life. This also came during the prelude to MarsCom’s recent and ongoing military build-up, which began half-heartedly at the start of the 23rd century with programs like Pixie, but under the resurgent Hawk faction of the Assembly (the backers of Vander’s push for Bill 461670), which wanted to reinforce MarsCom’s ability to fight on two fronts simultaneously against both Jovians and Selenites. And the idea of a fleet of smaller vessels to augment the larger ones and allow for more coverage over wider areas of space, proved quite attractive.

Also excited were the folks at the Kidman Design Bureau, where some of the children of the engineers who built the Pixie-KS were excited to pick up where their parents had left off. Awkwardly, much of the requisite data for the Pixie-KS was misplaced during a system upgrade a decade prior, so the original prototype had to be briefly removed from its place at the Vryheid Museum. In the middle of the night. Without telling the museum staff. And because this was a classified project, KDB also had to replace the museum exhibit with a cardboard replica, and ensure nobody found out. And then they’d have to swap out the replica with the original once they were finished taking it apart and reassembling it at the end of the weekend. These shenanigans would later be adapted into an off-beat comedy film starring Ahmed Elbari and Yoko Bennington in 409 (2378), after the events were later declassified in a tell-all book.

Anyway, skipping a bunch of boring engineering and prototyping, the first batch of the Aeshna-class as we know it was completed on Ushi 16th 395 (June 1st 2352), with the launch of the MCS Aeshna. However, this graphic is about a third-generation Aeshna-class, the MCS Clepsydra, which was launched on Cancer 15th 409 (April 2nd 2380), and commissioned for active-duty on Aquarius 9th 410 (September 7th 2380). Since her commission, the MCS Clepsydra has had only one engagement over Mars - assisting the Patrol Corps in disabling a hijacked spacecraft with its laser cannon. It has not fired its main gun in anger. Yet.

As part of the third generation of Aeshna-class vessels, the Clepsydra only superficially resembles the original Pixe-KS design. For starters, the Clepsydra’s total dry mass comes in at 5,202 tonnes. That extra mass translates to batteries for reserve life-support power, as well as numerous safety redundancies and overall improvements which were omitted from the initial design. The crew module has been greatly enlarged for better quality-of-life for personnel, a radiator band along said module, proper seats, improved passive and active life-support systems, and the added space and higher weight budget has allowed for a proper suite of sensors and optics to be installed, as well as a brain-core for a shipboard figurehead AI.

The main gun, the ED-0 Micro II, was a refinement of the original ED-0 Micro, which went on to be mounted as turret-guns on the city-sized Gradivus Maru-class battlestar, before the ED-0 Micro II made its way full-circle to become the spine of the Aeshna-class micro-kinetistar. This gun, plugged into its 10 gigawatt gas-core nuclear thermal lightbulb drive, is capable of flinging 7-tonne M122 Kinetic Penetrators at velocities of around 16 kilometers per second - said projectiles turn into star-hot bolts of plasma on impact, releasing the energy equivalent of 214 tonnes of TNT. The insane firepower of the Pixie-KS was modulated down from a full kiloton for the sake of pragmatism, accompanied by the use of refurbished Nova-S drives upgraded with denser shielding, which after extensive stress-testing have eliminated prior stability concerns. The capacitors on the Aeshna-class require 224 seconds to charge between shots, and to mitigate recoil, the ship’s engine performs a burn to counteract the force of the gun firing.

In addition to its main gun, the Aeshna-class carries a single Maxidyne Picada Mk III laser cannon. Operating in the 30-megawatt range, it’s primarily used for point-defense against enemy missiles, rather than as an offensive weapon - that said, if you touch this thing’s beam, you will explode inside your spacesuit after the laser boils your fluids in a matter of seconds. Ouch. Shutters are on the laser lens to prevent the enemy from disabling the ship’s lasers via “dazing” with their own lasers, which can cause a nasty explosion. Of course the laser is mounted on top of the crew module where said explosion would threaten the crew, why do you ask? These shutters are designed to open and shut within a split second, and in a combat situation, timing of shots and shutter openings and closings can mean the difference between death or glory. Also, because the laser doubles as a telescopic camera, it helps supplement the main gun’s dedicated optics for sighting targets.

The Clepsydra has four radiators, each 48 meters long, which are designed to fold up during combat to avoid damage. In space, extended radiators are a mark of peaceful intent, while retracted radiators communicate aggressive intent. Combat engagements will typically involve both sides retracting their radiators to begin a battle of attrition, as heat builds up and begins endangering the ship’s systems and the crew themselves. Assuming one ship isn’t destroyed in combat, extending one’s radiators is equivalent to raising a white flag.

There is no centrifuge on the Clepsydra, meaning that unless the ship is under thrust, all aboard work under microgravity conditions. Supplements and drugs help mitigate many negative effects of microgravity, although some are unavoidable. Every day, each member of the crew has a mandatory exercise routine of one hour, taking turns on the ship’s zero-gravity treadmill and other specialized exercise equipment. The Clepsydra’s assignment is that of patrolling Mars orbit and being on the ready to defend the Red Planet, on missions lasting three to six months at a time. After that period of orbiting Mars, they dock at their homeport of Vryheid Station and get at least one to two months for medical examinations, physical therapy and station leave, while the ship undergoes maintenance and diagnostics. Additionally, ships like the Clepsydra on orbital defense duty are allowed to make three-day stops at liberty stations [3] to allow the crew to soak up some Gs and restock on essentials, as well as connect with civilian populations, although said interactions are often pre-planned by the navy, it’s complicated.

Accommodations onboard are fairly tight. Sleeping quarters consist of sleeping bags secured to the walls to prevent drifting, with straps keeping the sleeping spacer in said sleeping bag. Personal effects are kept in lockers, and are limited to no more than 3 kilograms. Officers onboard are in practice limited to only half what enlisted spacers are allowed to carry, due to the fact that all MarsCom officers are issued kasai-gunto swords, which they are to carry and maintain to the best of their abilities…although, again, in practice, said swords are kept in the officer’s locker, and instead they keep the sword’s tsuba in their left pocket. Food onboard is freeze-dried, and spicy. Microgravity nerfs your sense of smell and taste, so most of the food normally comes across as bland, hence why spices are applied liberally, and why peppers and horseradish remain cash-crops around every gravity well in the Solar System. The spice must flow. Speaking of food, the toilet is a hose behind a curtain, you zip yourself in a bag to take a shower that only lasts two minutes (nose clips prevent you from inhaling zero-g water), and one of the hardest limits on the Clepsydra’s ability to stay out on mission, is the fact that there’s no washing machine, so clothes are worn until they’re too filthy. Which explains all the air-fresheners.

Because Mars orbit is not a threat-dense space, drills and simulations occupy much of the crew’s duty time, often involving hyper-real simulations jacked directly into each crewmate’s neural-interface ports (such cybernetic implants are mandatory for all Fleet Corps personnel). In that context, the crew of the Clepsydra have emerged victorious in 42 of 56 simulated battles involving Jovian or Selenite invaders. Or at least not died. To alleviate boredom between simulations and daily tasks, each crewmate has a tablet (screened by the Fleet Corps before they begin each deployment, and then placed on the ship to await them when they board for said deployment, and prohibited from being taken off the ship during liberty, to prevent these devices from becoming vectors for malware) with which they can draw, write, or read, watch, play or listen to any of the thousands of pieces of media available on the ship’s hard drive. Although, in the case of the Clepsydra, the crew’s been playing a game of dungeons and dragons (45e) for the last three months. Speaking of whom, let’s meet the crew.

The Commander of the Clepsydra serves as the ship’s pilot and commanding officer. Despite the name, the officer dubbed “Pilot” is actually the commander’s co-pilot and second-in-command. The Clepsydra’s Gunnery Officer is responsible for the ship’s main gun, and is tasked with aiming and firing it - to that end, the Gunner Officer shares RCS control with the Commander and Pilot. The Electronics Officer is responsible for the ship’s communications and sensors, the Propulsion Engineer is the person who maintains the ship’s main propulsion system and is most qualified to go outside and repair it if need be, and the Systems Engineer oversees a broad range of onboard systems, mostly life support, electrical and digital. The crew of the Clepsydra is as varied as their occupations, and come from many different walks of life.

Commander Orus Christy is descended from one of the first Mormon families to settle Olympus Mons and hails from the great city of New Canaan, located in the domed over caldera of Olympus Mons. A square-jawed Mormon cyborg with a fully-prosthetic body, Commander Christy looks like he walked out of a MarsCom propaganda poster in time to run for President, and backs it up with an optimistic and clean-cut personality - usually annoying, occasionally very uplifting to his subordinates. In the crew’s ongoing D&D game, Christy plays a samurai.

Pilot Yamashiro “YY” Yamazawa is the Clepsydra’s second-in-command, and unlike Commander Christy, YY (don’t call him “Yoshi”) came from a working-class family in the “Ruby City” of Hirakawa, the largest city on Mars. He’s a more reserved, sardonic man than Christy, however they nonetheless have a strong bond after many annums of serving together. YY is also an avid IBFA (International Bug-Fighting Association) watcher, specifically the Crawlie Division and even more specifically the classic league of cricket death matches, to which a shocking percentage of his tablet’s memory is dedicated. In the crew’s ongoing D&D game, YY plays a wizard.

Born on Deimos, Electronics Officer Katsuya Fletcher is the resident artist on the Clepsydra, spending his downtime sketching on his tablet and humming melodies as he works at his station, all while staying alert for suspicious activity on the ship sensors. Fletcher’s goal when he finishes his current tour of duty and earns his Alliance citizenship, is to use his benefits to settle down on Mars proper and open an art studio in Church Hill, maybe Axiom. In the crew’s ongoing D&D game, Fletcher plays as a bard.

Gunnery Officer Rei Nguyen grew up in a one-family homestead on the rainy Xanthe grasslands of the Republic of New Saigon, where she learned to hunt katymanga with a bow and arrow. After moving to New Saigon’s capital of Westmoreland when she was 10-annums-old, she applied herself and graduated from Westmoreland Space Officer’s School, despite growing up homeschooled and having to work much harder than her peers. Still somewhat hickish in her mannerisms, she’s proven a very competent gunnery officer thus far. At least going by the simulations. In the crew’s ongoing D&D game, Nguyen plays a sniper.

Not everyone aboard the Clepsydra is an inspirational or likable figure, if anything, most of the crew is atypical of the average Fleet Corps crew, whereas Propulsion Engineer Cicero Oliveria, hailing from the Duchy of Noachia, embodies more of the norm. Crass and crude, with a sense of humor darker than the void of space, he nonetheless keeps a good work ethic, though he could perhaps keep his unprofessional remarks to himself. In the crew’s ongoing D&D game, Oliveria plays a seducer.

And then there’s Systems Engineer Ederam Zad, the most recent addition to the crew, and a former member of the Barsu Faith (a large religious community on Mars, who believe themselves to possess the reincarnated souls of a pre-human Martian civilization), who left it to become a Martian Rite Catholic. Not much is known about Zad, as he is a guarded young man of few words - his Barsu roots only known from the rust-red markings on his body which he was born with, and his Catholicism from the rosary which he is never seen without. Zad reluctantly participates in the crew D&D game as a cleric.

The Clepsydra’s figurehead, Epsy (service number: 917 13 54), has an avatar modeled after a perky Avalonian girl [4], and her job as the ship’s mind is to oversee the vessel’s automated systems, such as the robotic loading-arm, while also serving as a personable face, voice and interface for the Clepsydra. Her simply being present can help her crew bond with their vessel and not view it as a hostile environment. She wears several other hats, too, like helping Fletcher keep an eye and ear on the sensors and radio, assisting Nguyen with her aim (Nguyen has to be the one to pull the trigger, however in an emergency, Epsy can aim or fire on the commander or gunnery officer’s orders), monitoring her crew’s emotional, mental and physical wellbeing, maintaining morale and team spirit, operating most of the ship’s systems when the majority of the crew are asleep, translating incoming radio signals when nobody onboard speaks the language. And most importantly, ensuring that MarsCom rules of engagement are enforced, logging all activities and making sure the ship isn’t used for any unauthorized or illegal conduct. Oh, and in the crew’s ongoing D&D game, Epsy plays as a barbarian.

[1] Mars uses the Darian calendar in this timeline, which is almost identical to that of the Darian calendar in our timeline ( en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Darian_c… ) - except for the names of the months, which are instead Sagittarius, Nezumi, Capricornus, Ushi, Aquarius, Tora, Pisces, Usagi, Aries, Tatsu, Taurus, Hebi, Gemini, Uma, Cancer, Hitsuji, Leo, Saru, Virgo, Tori, Libra, Inu, Scorpius and Inoshishi. The Darian Calendar begins in the Gregorian year of 1611, with the Telescopic Epoch. The current year in OH, 2385, is the Martian annum 412. Most Martians use the Darian calendar in their daily life, and it’s the formal system used by governments and businesses on Mars, but most Martians are also aware of the Gregorian calendar, and some nations on Mars still mandate the use of both

[2] 19 standard years; an “annum” is the term for the 24-month Martian year, which is equivalent to 1.88 standard years. Whereas using the word “sol” for the Martian day failed to become widespread among ordinary Martians, who continued to use “day”, the use of the word “annum” as opposed to “year” or “Martian year” had much better luck in gaining traction, when statements like “the age of consent in most regions of Mars is 9” proved quite awkward and controversial, even though converting units of time would turn 9 annums into 16 “standard years”

[3] Liberty stations are locales in Mars orbit and elsewhere, where MarsCom personnel are allowed to go on-station, whereas at the much more numerous “working stations”, personnel stay on their ships and resume duties. Most of the time, ships docked at liberty stations divide into three duty sections, so that each crew member has two days of liberty and one day of duty, but for smaller ships like the Clepsydra, they divide into two sections, meaning only one day of liberty and one day of duty per section

[4] Avalonians are natives of the Avalon Basin (Hellas Planitia), and are descended from British, Nigerian, Australian, Caribbean, Malaysian, Canadian, Indian, Zimbabwean, Zambian, Botswanan, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, Papuan, East African, Singaporean, Hong Konger, Ghanaian and New Zealander colonists. Starting in the early 21st century, there was a movement in Avalon to “flatten” ethnic and cultural differences, at first by encouraging standard use of English and a series of shared, secular holidays and (mostly unsuccessful) attempts at religious syncretization, and later on by adopting a wholly-new phenotype via genome editing, with almost 150,000 Avalonians agreeing to germline gene therapy by 2025. Fast forward, and the majority Avalonians in the 23rd century, regardless of Earthling ancestry, have Commonwealth accents, light brown skin, red irises, and white, silver or gray hair

Description

"Project Pixie" (364-370 / 2295-2305) was one of the Martian Alliance’s more curious initiatives within the last century, aiming to produce miniaturized "micro" warships with capabilities comparable to existing vessels, but in a lower-mass package. Officially, Project Pixie's primary goal was to probe and appraise the then-existing limits of Alliance miniaturization capabilities and learn lessons which could be applied to more conventional-sized warships. However, the so-called “Reform Study Group” faction of officers and engineers within the Fleet Corps held out hope for the bizarre vision of a future Martian fleet of tiny, super-powerful warships which would dominate the future battlespace. Despite efforts by the RSG to expand their influence in the Assembly, their vision of adopting these tiny warship test beds as military spacecraft was not accepted at the time. Still, Pixie prototypes did indeed provide valuable lessons for the mass-modernization of the Alliance fleet at the turn of the 24th century, after a prolonged period of peace had many wondering if 23rd century procurement policy had gone soft. In the end, most of the Pixies were either scrapped or donated to museums by 373 (2311)[1].

That should have been where the story ended. But this is the story of the Aeshna-class "micro-kinetistar", which began life as the “Pixie-KS”, an attempt to shrink the capabilities of the old, venerable but decidedly oversized Adderbolt-class, down into as small a package as possible. Coming in at a mere 84 meters in height and only 4,845 tonnes, compared to the Adderbolt’s 441 meters and mass of 80,000 tonnes, the Pixie-KS did in fact achieve the first half of its objective. The second half, providing the same capabilities as its predecessor in a smaller package, proved much more challenging. Contracting out to Ohara Laconix's Kidman Design Bureau on Vryheid Station in orbit above Mars, the Pixie-KS started with a radical miniaturization of the Adderbolt's ED-0 heavy railgun, a beastly weapon capable of slinging projectiles at speeds approaching 3,000 km/s and impact yields of 3.5 megatons. The resulting “ED-0 Micro” was one-tenth the length of the original, but three times as robust and theoretically could handle the immense electrical currents required to reach 3.5 megatons of kinetic energy. Or not. Ohara’s engineers were only able to scrape one single kiloton of power with the Micro, and even that was only possible after hooking it up to the highly-temperamental Ohara Nova-S lightbulb drive, a gas-core nuclear-thermal rocket which had already been rejected by the Fleet Corps for its corsair upgrades in the late 350s (early 2280s). All 306 Nova-S drives were nearly approved for destruction before they were added to Project Pixie’s approved parts list at the last minute. The most powerful bi-modal fission NTR drive available to Ohara Laconix which fit within the Pixie-KS’ mass limit of 5,000 tonnes, the Nova-S was, and remains, infamous for its original instability, owing to the remarkably thin reactor shielding, a byproduct of attempting to increase output while lowering mass at the same time. However, the Nova-S was the only thing KDB could think of that could provide both propulsion and energy for the main gun that could compare to the Adderbolt’s performance while remaining under the mass budget, and still couldn’t measure up. Speaking of, the Pixie-KS also lacked a magazine. Instead, it has a maximum capacity of nineteen M122 kinetic penetrators, each weighing seven tonnes, mounted on a conveyor belt along the outside of the ship, which are manually loaded into an opening breach via robotic arm. And then there was the crew module, added onto the side of the craft almost as an afterthought. No centrifuge, unarmored to save on mass, four crewmen (captain, pilot, co-pilot, gunnery officer) were to work inside a crowded can, with the absolute bare minimum life-support. Indeed, under simulated combat conditions, Pixie-KS crews had to don O2 masks, because power was automatically diverted from the active life-support to the main gun, due to KDB choosing to save mass by skimping on batteries and having the active life-support system run on the main reactor, meaning the Pixie-KS was not built with emergency backup power for active life-support. Additionally, there were no chairs, no bunks apart from sleeping bags (literally purchased from a sporting goods store) screwed into the walls, no panels or housings on any of the electronics, exterior cameras which were not military-grade (purchased from the same store as the sleeping bags), polished metal instead of proper mirrors on the periscopes, no figurehead due to the necessary brain-cores being too heavy at the time, and scores of other features lacking in an effort by KDB to remain below the mass limit and keep production costs as low as possible. The Pixie-KS also lacked the sensor and targeting suite of its Adderbolt ancestor, meaning over distances longer than 1,000 kilometers, it was practically blind and required spotters with better sensors to radio coordinates to the craft’s gunnery officer.

Following completion and test flights, the Pixie-KS crews quoted their experiences as “nightmarish”. However, innovations developed under the challenging conditions of Project Pixie meant features from the Pixie-KS were still integrated into the Zygonyx-class kinetistar, a warship much larger than the Pixie-KS but still substantially smaller and lighter than the Adderbolt, which would be revealed to the public on Sagittarius 7th 375 (2314) after being developed in secret by KDB’s team, who were relieved at no longer being forced to stay under 5,000 tonnes. Notably, the Zygonyx-class incorporates an external magazine and manual-loading system via robotic arm, similar to the Pixie-KS.

Again, this should have been the end of the line for the Pixie-KS, which was delivered to Vryheid Station Spaceship Museum on Hebi 3rd 373 (August 11th 2311), where it is still on display today.

Enter General Daisuke Vander. General Vander was a hero of the Scyllarus War, where his command of the Belt Fleet at the Battle of Klotho was defined by masterful orchestration of three Zygonyx-class kinetistars under his command. Retiring early from active duty and successfully winning his election to the Praefectory in 377 (2319), Vander became a key member of the Assembly’s New Reform Study Group in 380 (2324), a successor to the earlier RSG, which had semi-successfully revived the idea of the “Pixie Fleet”. The source of the NSRG’s success in gaining influence involves a lot of boring and esoteric Martian Assembly politics and many old chickens from the Fleet Corps’ procurement section coming home to roost, but suffice it to say, Vander’s war-hero endorsement of the NSRG and much more magnetic charisma compared to the scrawny nerds in the group, pushed Bill 461670 just barely over the line with 54% of the vote in the Praefectory on Cancer 16th 393 (October 15th 2350). What was that, exactly? Well, after being ratified by the President a day later, it approved the NSRG’s agenda to reassess Pixie concepts which were by now almost ten annums old [2].

As bizarre as this may have seemed, it was not entirely unfounded. For instance, the Zygonyx-class, while an improvement in terms of mass from the Adderbolt-class, was still quite large, and many had called for a smaller, more lightweight kinetistar which could bring firepower where it was needed without all the necessary logistics of a larger vessel - a “tactical” rather than “strategic” kinetistar. And indeed, while the Pixie-KS would have been an unsafe horror to serve aboard, advances in technology made since Project Pixie now allowed for older designs to be given new life. This also came during the prelude to MarsCom’s recent and ongoing military build-up, which began half-heartedly at the start of the 23rd century with programs like Pixie, but under the resurgent Hawk faction of the Assembly (the backers of Vander’s push for Bill 461670), which wanted to reinforce MarsCom’s ability to fight on two fronts simultaneously against both Jovians and Selenites. And the idea of a fleet of smaller vessels to augment the larger ones and allow for more coverage over wider areas of space, proved quite attractive.

Also excited were the folks at the Kidman Design Bureau, where some of the children of the engineers who built the Pixie-KS were excited to pick up where their parents had left off. Awkwardly, much of the requisite data for the Pixie-KS was misplaced during a system upgrade a decade prior, so the original prototype had to be briefly removed from its place at the Vryheid Museum. In the middle of the night. Without telling the museum staff. And because this was a classified project, KDB also had to replace the museum exhibit with a cardboard replica, and ensure nobody found out. And then they’d have to swap out the replica with the original once they were finished taking it apart and reassembling it at the end of the weekend. These shenanigans would later be adapted into an off-beat comedy film starring Ahmed Elbari and Yoko Bennington in 409 (2378), after the events were later declassified in a tell-all book.

Anyway, skipping a bunch of boring engineering and prototyping, the first batch of the Aeshna-class as we know it was completed on Ushi 16th 395 (June 1st 2352), with the launch of the MCS Aeshna. However, this graphic is about a third-generation Aeshna-class, the MCS Clepsydra, which was launched on Cancer 15th 409 (April 2nd 2380), and commissioned for active-duty on Aquarius 9th 410 (September 7th 2380). Since her commission, the MCS Clepsydra has had only one engagement over Mars - assisting the Patrol Corps in disabling a hijacked spacecraft with its laser cannon. It has not fired its main gun in anger. Yet.

As part of the third generation of Aeshna-class vessels, the Clepsydra only superficially resembles the original Pixe-KS design. For starters, the Clepsydra’s total dry mass comes in at 5,202 tonnes. That extra mass translates to batteries for reserve life-support power, as well as numerous safety redundancies and overall improvements which were omitted from the initial design. The crew module has been greatly enlarged for better quality-of-life for personnel, a radiator band along said module, proper seats, improved passive and active life-support systems, and the added space and higher weight budget has allowed for a proper suite of sensors and optics to be installed, as well as a brain-core for a shipboard figurehead AI.

The main gun, the ED-0 Micro II, was a refinement of the original ED-0 Micro, which went on to be mounted as turret-guns on the city-sized Gradivus Maru-class battlestar, before the ED-0 Micro II made its way full-circle to become the spine of the Aeshna-class micro-kinetistar. This gun, plugged into its 10 gigawatt gas-core nuclear thermal lightbulb drive, is capable of flinging 7-tonne M122 Kinetic Penetrators at velocities of around 16 kilometers per second - said projectiles turn into star-hot bolts of plasma on impact, releasing the energy equivalent of 214 tonnes of TNT. The insane firepower of the Pixie-KS was modulated down from a full kiloton for the sake of pragmatism, accompanied by the use of refurbished Nova-S drives upgraded with denser shielding, which after extensive stress-testing have eliminated prior stability concerns. The capacitors on the Aeshna-class require 224 seconds to charge between shots, and to mitigate recoil, the ship’s engine performs a burn to counteract the force of the gun firing.

In addition to its main gun, the Aeshna-class carries a single Maxidyne Picada Mk III laser cannon. Operating in the 30-megawatt range, it’s primarily used for point-defense against enemy missiles, rather than as an offensive weapon - that said, if you touch this thing’s beam, you will explode inside your spacesuit after the laser boils your fluids in a matter of seconds. Ouch. Shutters are on the laser lens to prevent the enemy from disabling the ship’s lasers via “dazing” with their own lasers, which can cause a nasty explosion. Of course the laser is mounted on top of the crew module where said explosion would threaten the crew, why do you ask? These shutters are designed to open and shut within a split second, and in a combat situation, timing of shots and shutter openings and closings can mean the difference between death or glory. Also, because the laser doubles as a telescopic camera, it helps supplement the main gun’s dedicated optics for sighting targets.

The Clepsydra has four radiators, each 48 meters long, which are designed to fold up during combat to avoid damage. In space, extended radiators are a mark of peaceful intent, while retracted radiators communicate aggressive intent. Combat engagements will typically involve both sides retracting their radiators to begin a battle of attrition, as heat builds up and begins endangering the ship’s systems and the crew themselves. Assuming one ship isn’t destroyed in combat, extending one’s radiators is equivalent to raising a white flag.

There is no centrifuge on the Clepsydra, meaning that unless the ship is under thrust, all aboard work under microgravity conditions. Supplements and drugs help mitigate many negative effects of microgravity, although some are unavoidable. Every day, each member of the crew has a mandatory exercise routine of one hour, taking turns on the ship’s zero-gravity treadmill and other specialized exercise equipment. The Clepsydra’s assignment is that of patrolling Mars orbit and being on the ready to defend the Red Planet, on missions lasting three to six months at a time. After that period of orbiting Mars, they dock at their homeport of Vryheid Station and get at least one to two months for medical examinations, physical therapy and station leave, while the ship undergoes maintenance and diagnostics. Additionally, ships like the Clepsydra on orbital defense duty are allowed to make three-day stops at liberty stations [3] to allow the crew to soak up some Gs and restock on essentials, as well as connect with civilian populations, although said interactions are often pre-planned by the navy, it’s complicated.

Accommodations onboard are fairly tight. Sleeping quarters consist of sleeping bags secured to the walls to prevent drifting, with straps keeping the sleeping spacer in said sleeping bag. Personal effects are kept in lockers, and are limited to no more than 3 kilograms. Officers onboard are in practice limited to only half what enlisted spacers are allowed to carry, due to the fact that all MarsCom officers are issued kasai-gunto swords, which they are to carry and maintain to the best of their abilities…although, again, in practice, said swords are kept in the officer’s locker, and instead they keep the sword’s tsuba in their left pocket. Food onboard is freeze-dried, and spicy. Microgravity nerfs your sense of smell and taste, so most of the food normally comes across as bland, hence why spices are applied liberally, and why peppers and horseradish remain cash-crops around every gravity well in the Solar System. The spice must flow. Speaking of food, the toilet is a hose behind a curtain, you zip yourself in a bag to take a shower that only lasts two minutes (nose clips prevent you from inhaling zero-g water), and one of the hardest limits on the Clepsydra’s ability to stay out on mission, is the fact that there’s no washing machine, so clothes are worn until they’re too filthy. Which explains all the air-fresheners.

Because Mars orbit is not a threat-dense space, drills and simulations occupy much of the crew’s duty time, often involving hyper-real simulations jacked directly into each crewmate’s neural-interface ports (such cybernetic implants are mandatory for all Fleet Corps personnel). In that context, the crew of the Clepsydra have emerged victorious in 42 of 56 simulated battles involving Jovian or Selenite invaders. Or at least not died. To alleviate boredom between simulations and daily tasks, each crewmate has a tablet (screened by the Fleet Corps before they begin each deployment, and then placed on the ship to await them when they board for said deployment, and prohibited from being taken off the ship during liberty, to prevent these devices from becoming vectors for malware) with which they can draw, write, or read, watch, play or listen to any of the thousands of pieces of media available on the ship’s hard drive. Although, in the case of the Clepsydra, the crew’s been playing a game of dungeons and dragons (45e) for the last three months. Speaking of whom, let’s meet the crew.

The Commander of the Clepsydra serves as the ship’s pilot and commanding officer. Despite the name, the officer dubbed “Pilot” is actually the commander’s co-pilot and second-in-command. The Clepsydra’s Gunnery Officer is responsible for the ship’s main gun, and is tasked with aiming and firing it - to that end, the Gunner Officer shares RCS control with the Commander and Pilot. The Electronics Officer is responsible for the ship’s communications and sensors, the Propulsion Engineer is the person who maintains the ship’s main propulsion system and is most qualified to go outside and repair it if need be, and the Systems Engineer oversees a broad range of onboard systems, mostly life support, electrical and digital. The crew of the Clepsydra is as varied as their occupations, and come from many different walks of life.

Commander Orus Christy is descended from one of the first Mormon families to settle Olympus Mons and hails from the great city of New Canaan, located in the domed over caldera of Olympus Mons. A square-jawed Mormon cyborg with a fully-prosthetic body, Commander Christy looks like he walked out of a MarsCom propaganda poster in time to run for President, and backs it up with an optimistic and clean-cut personality - usually annoying, occasionally very uplifting to his subordinates. In the crew’s ongoing D&D game, Christy plays a samurai.

Pilot Yamashiro “YY” Yamazawa is the Clepsydra’s second-in-command, and unlike Commander Christy, YY (don’t call him “Yoshi”) came from a working-class family in the “Ruby City” of Hirakawa, the largest city on Mars. He’s a more reserved, sardonic man than Christy, however they nonetheless have a strong bond after many annums of serving together. YY is also an avid IBFA (International Bug-Fighting Association) watcher, specifically the Crawlie Division and even more specifically the classic league of cricket death matches, to which a shocking percentage of his tablet’s memory is dedicated. In the crew’s ongoing D&D game, YY plays a wizard.

Born on Deimos, Electronics Officer Katsuya Fletcher is the resident artist on the Clepsydra, spending his downtime sketching on his tablet and humming melodies as he works at his station, all while staying alert for suspicious activity on the ship sensors. Fletcher’s goal when he finishes his current tour of duty and earns his Alliance citizenship, is to use his benefits to settle down on Mars proper and open an art studio in Church Hill, maybe Axiom. In the crew’s ongoing D&D game, Fletcher plays as a bard.

Gunnery Officer Rei Nguyen grew up in a one-family homestead on the rainy Xanthe grasslands of the Republic of New Saigon, where she learned to hunt katymanga with a bow and arrow. After moving to New Saigon’s capital of Westmoreland when she was 10-annums-old, she applied herself and graduated from Westmoreland Space Officer’s School, despite growing up homeschooled and having to work much harder than her peers. Still somewhat hickish in her mannerisms, she’s proven a very competent gunnery officer thus far. At least going by the simulations. In the crew’s ongoing D&D game, Nguyen plays a sniper.

Not everyone aboard the Clepsydra is an inspirational or likable figure, if anything, most of the crew is atypical of the average Fleet Corps crew, whereas Propulsion Engineer Cicero Oliveria, hailing from the Duchy of Noachia, embodies more of the norm. Crass and crude, with a sense of humor darker than the void of space, he nonetheless keeps a good work ethic, though he could perhaps keep his unprofessional remarks to himself. In the crew’s ongoing D&D game, Oliveria plays a seducer.

And then there’s Systems Engineer Ederam Zad, the most recent addition to the crew, and a former member of the Barsu Faith (a large religious community on Mars, who believe themselves to possess the reincarnated souls of a pre-human Martian civilization), who left it to become a Martian Rite Catholic. Not much is known about Zad, as he is a guarded young man of few words - his Barsu roots only known from the rust-red markings on his body which he was born with, and his Catholicism from the rosary which he is never seen without. Zad reluctantly participates in the crew D&D game as a cleric.

The Clepsydra’s figurehead, Epsy (service number: 917 13 54), has an avatar modeled after a perky Avalonian girl [4], and her job as the ship’s mind is to oversee the vessel’s automated systems, such as the robotic loading-arm, while also serving as a personable face, voice and interface for the Clepsydra. Her simply being present can help her crew bond with their vessel and not view it as a hostile environment. She wears several other hats, too, like helping Fletcher keep an eye and ear on the sensors and radio, assisting Nguyen with her aim (Nguyen has to be the one to pull the trigger, however in an emergency, Epsy can aim or fire on the commander or gunnery officer’s orders), monitoring her crew’s emotional, mental and physical wellbeing, maintaining morale and team spirit, operating most of the ship’s systems when the majority of the crew are asleep, translating incoming radio signals when nobody onboard speaks the language. And most importantly, ensuring that MarsCom rules of engagement are enforced, logging all activities and making sure the ship isn’t used for any unauthorized or illegal conduct. Oh, and in the crew’s ongoing D&D game, Epsy plays as a barbarian.

[1] Mars uses the Darian calendar in this timeline, which is almost identical to that of the Darian calendar in our timeline ( en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Darian_c… ) - except for the names of the months, which are instead Sagittarius, Nezumi, Capricornus, Ushi, Aquarius, Tora, Pisces, Usagi, Aries, Tatsu, Taurus, Hebi, Gemini, Uma, Cancer, Hitsuji, Leo, Saru, Virgo, Tori, Libra, Inu, Scorpius and Inoshishi. The Darian Calendar begins in the Gregorian year of 1611, with the Telescopic Epoch. The current year in OH, 2385, is the Martian annum 412. Most Martians use the Darian calendar in their daily life, and it’s the formal system used by governments and businesses on Mars, but most Martians are also aware of the Gregorian calendar, and some nations on Mars still mandate the use of both

[2] 19 standard years; an “annum” is the term for the 24-month Martian year, which is equivalent to 1.88 standard years. Whereas using the word “sol” for the Martian day failed to become widespread among ordinary Martians, who continued to use “day”, the use of the word “annum” as opposed to “year” or “Martian year” had much better luck in gaining traction, when statements like “the age of consent in most regions of Mars is 9” proved quite awkward and controversial, even though converting units of time would turn 9 annums into 16 “standard years”

[3] Liberty stations are locales in Mars orbit and elsewhere, where MarsCom personnel are allowed to go on-station, whereas at the much more numerous “working stations”, personnel stay on their ships and resume duties. Most of the time, ships docked at liberty stations divide into three duty sections, so that each crew member has two days of liberty and one day of duty, but for smaller ships like the Clepsydra, they divide into two sections, meaning only one day of liberty and one day of duty per section

[4] Avalonians are natives of the Avalon Basin (Hellas Planitia), and are descended from British, Nigerian, Australian, Caribbean, Malaysian, Canadian, Indian, Zimbabwean, Zambian, Botswanan, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, Papuan, East African, Singaporean, Hong Konger, Ghanaian and New Zealander colonists. Starting in the early 21st century, there was a movement in Avalon to “flatten” ethnic and cultural differences, at first by encouraging standard use of English and a series of shared, secular holidays and (mostly unsuccessful) attempts at religious syncretization, and later on by adopting a wholly-new phenotype via genome editing, with almost 150,000 Avalonians agreeing to germline gene therapy by 2025. Fast forward, and the majority Avalonians in the 23rd century, regardless of Earthling ancestry, have Commonwealth accents, light brown skin, red irises, and white, silver or gray hair