Living Ships

Spaceships represent the pinnacle of human technological and industrial development. However science fiction has also explored the idea that different technologies might develop in a different way, or that instead of technology a species might turn to nature instead. Here I take a look at the science and science fiction of living and sentient spaceships.

Organic Ships

The triumph of biological sciences over the physical sciences is a feature of many alien technologies in science fiction. Classic science fiction television series Doctor Who featured a number of species who used bio-technology, perhaps most famously the Zygons (first appearing in serial “Terror of the Zygons”, 1975). These aliens, short, swollen, covered in suckers and ugly to human eyes, are capable of changing their external appearance to match those of human (or other) individuals, but only if the originals are enclosed in pods. These pods form part of their biological spaceships. From the point of view of human characters (and viewers) these pods are uncomfortably organic, slimy and permeated by fluid-filled veins. Indeed all the ships controls appear to be grown rather than constructed.

More technological are the organic ships belonging to the ancient Vorlon and Shadow races in the television series Babylon 5 (1994-1998). Here the ships are clearly living but nonetheless shaped around and through metallic shells, fitted with electronic equipment. The Vorlon and Shadow ships are never closely inspected, and some may be fully sentient, but the White Star fleet, provided to the Interstellar Alliance founded at Babylon 5 by the Vorlons, appear frequently in the later part of the series. However, like the Zygon ships, the White Stars appear to be tools rather than allies, manufactured devices with little or no evidence of sentience.

Of course, in some narratives, a biotech space ship is even closer to its biological roots. In Dan Simmons’ Hyperion Cantos (four novel series, 1989-1997), the Templar organisation harvests giant sequoia trees (described as up to a kilometre long) to use as the base structure for a faster-than-light starship protected by force fields. Other tree-ships appear in Stephen Baxter’s novel Raft (1991, where they drift between human settlements in a dense nebula) and in Larry Niven’s The Integral Trees (1984, where the vast trees themselves provide the location for human settlements in a habitable gaseous ring around a neutron star). Again though, while organic, there is little or no evidence that these trees react in anything but an instinctive manner

Shaped for the Stars

While the biological ships mentioned above have human (or occasionally alien) brains guiding them, some examples of science fiction take this still more literally. Stories in which humans (often those with physical disabilities) are deliberately embedded within ships are common, prominently including Anne McCaffrey’s 1969 novel The Ship Who Sang (and its sequels). Some ships are more predatory. In Clifford D Simak’s short story The Shipshape Miracle (Worlds of If, 1953), an AI-operated ship actually captures a stranded criminal with the express intention of merging its personality with his human brain, willing or not. However some stories have taken this premise further than such cyborg (human/machine merging) technologies.

Natural History, a 2003 novel by Justina Robson, imagines a more distant future in which genetic engineering is widespread. While the original (“unevolved”) humans still proliferate on Earth, they have created a vast range of engineered (“Forged”) humans either in service roles or to exploit environments such as the deep oceans or outer space. The novel focuses on a group of Forged, and particularly on one individual, Isol, an interstellar probe who discovers a new material with fantastic properties.

Technically, the human tissue is wrapped in a metal shell during its maturation, designed and constructed deliberately, making these still cyborgs rather than fully sentient ships. Importantly, the Forged aren’t simply conventional humans encased in a metal shell (as in the case of the cyborg stories above), or AIs in otherwise non-living ships. They are shaped and born fully integrated with their role, unable to imagine having limbs or conventional senses. Their minds and bodies have never had a form more akin to conventional humanity. They also come in a huge range of sizes and shapes, from tiny office messengers to vast terraforming creatures. A large number though are forged into spaceships, inhabiting space as their natural habitat.

An equally grey, although very different, area is occupied by the sentient beings in the novel The Stars are Legion by Kameron Hurley. This describes an extensive fleet of small worlds orbiting a distant sun. Each world is a living creature and its population forms part of its biological matrix. Although the characters appear at first to be human, it becomes gradually apparent that they are very different. There is only one gender (with no hint that any other had ever existed or been imagined) and since every individual is capable of giving birth, that gender is female. However the characters do not birth other people (except in rare cases). Instead they become spontaneously pregnant with whatever the world needs - whether that is some form of animal life, or parts of bio-organic machinery, or even an entire new world. At least one of these worlds is navigable, qualifying them all as spaceships in potentia. And while it is unclear whether they are truly sentient in their own right, each appears to have a form of collective awareness, formed in part by its population, and shaped by the dominant Lord of the world.

Doctor Who may have dabbled in organic craft, but on at least one occasion, it went all the way to a fully sentient, living space craft. In “The Beast Below” (TV episode, 2010), Matt Smith’s Eleventh Doctor escorted Amy Pond to a United Kingdom which consists entirely of a spaceship, of which each original county contributes a towering component, on an apparently solid base. Inevitably though, it soon becomes clear that all is not well on Starship UK, with evidence for an organic underlayer below the industry. 

The Doctor and Amy learn that the starship in fact comprises a huge star whale, with the UK infrastructure carried on its back, after evacuating the planet due to solar flares and an ecological collapse. While it is controlled by electrical impulses direct to its brain, the creature is fully sentient and made a rational decision to act as a spaceship in order to aid the children of the impoverished UK. Arguably though, even this is an example of a cyborg - with the spaceship infrastructure bolted on to the being - rather than a true living ship.

Tin Men, Leviathans and Voidships

In the feature length opening episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, “Encounter at Farpoint” (1987), the newly-formed crew of the starship NCC 1701-D Enterprise are faced with a mystery. A hitherto low-technology race, the Bandi, have suddenly constructed a state-of-the-art, luxury space port. Exploring, the empathic Counsellor Troi senses great pain and loneliness. When a lens-shaped spacecraft with the same peculiar internal architecture, and emotions of deep anger, enters orbit and begins to bombard the Bandi city, the Enterprise crew realise that all is not as it seems.

The spacecraft and the ground-based port are both living and self-aware entities, whose internal chambers and environment act as a perfect support system for human-like life. While neither entity communicates clearly, they are clearly able to understand and interpret detailed instructions, as well as acting rationally and with foresight. Freed from the planet by a low powered energy beam, the Farpoint station rejoins its mate, both revealing an alternate form in which the lens-shaped bodies become the mantles of a vast, tentacled jelly-fish.

However these are by no means the only living ships in the Star Trek universe. Another notable example is the entity known as Gomtuu, or the Tin Man - after the Tin Woodsman of Oz who was famously in search of a heart (ST:TNG episode “Tin Man”, ??). Gomtuu was an organic spaceship, whose symbiotic original crew had been killed by radiation sometime before. Although the ship itself was sentient, when discovered it was seeking annihilation in an imminent supernova. it was nonetheless willing to accept a new crew member with which to explore the Universe.

We’re told that Gomtuu originated very far away, perhaps outside the Galaxy, and that “once there were millions of them. It hasn’t seen another of its kind for millenia. It’s alone. It may be the last of its species.” By contrast, other narratives feature entire races of sentient ships.

In American Korean writer Yoon Ha Lee’s Machineries of Empire trilogy of novels (Ninefox Gambit, Raven Stratagem and Revenant Gun, 2016-2018), a distant future humanity has two forms of technology - the conventional devices we know of and the exotic technologies which only function in the right environment, shaped by calendar, numerical conventions and human belief. In this context, faster-than-light spaceflight is enabled by a class of shifts known as Voidmoths. These come in a range of sizes and shapes, from single-person scouts to enormous battleships.

In the first two novels, these ships, although largely organic cyborgs in nature, are used purely as non-sentient biotechnology. However in the final novel, Revenant Gun (2018) and its sequel novella Glass Cannon (2019), we find that there is much more. The Voidmoths were a naturally occurring form of space-based life which were captured, bred and modified to be more useful as spacecraft. Unknown to their crews, these vessels not only have consciousness but are fully sentient and communicate telepathically amongst themselves - and with a character who proves to have been cloned from a blend of human and voidmoth DNA. However they are typically restrained after hatching, and it comes as a lethal surprise to its crews when one finds a way to break its shackles.

The Voidmoths are heavily modified but always had the potential to act as spacecraft. By contrast, a sentient species biologically engineered for the role are the similarly named Voidhawks of Peter F Hamilton’s Night’s Dawn trilogy (The Reality Dysfunction, The Neutronium Alchemist, The Naked God, 1996-1999). These novels describe an equally distant future in which humanity has split into two sub-species, the adamites who refuse genetic enhancement, and the edenites who have a genetically-engineered “affinity” - a form of telepathic communication. This enables the permanent bonding of humans with Voidhawks, with human embryos implanted in Voidhawk eggs. After a year of development, the humans are ‘born’ and raised in space settlements (themselves sentient) until rejoining their matured craft when both are eighteen years old. The biological structures of the ships themselves are fitted with The ships are described as bitek - engineered biotechnology - but it is clear that they are self-aware, capable of independent reproduction, and with a culture and society that has developed over the centuries of their existence.

However amongst the most prominent notable sentient organic ships in science fiction are the Leviathan Moya and her son Talyn in the television series Farscape (1999-2003). Farscape follows the (dramatic, unpredictable and occasionally bizarre) adventures of human John Crichton, whose space shuttle is transported to a distant part of the Universe by a freak wormhole. There he escapes with a group of fugitives including Moya and her semi-integrated but separately sentient Pilot [1]. Unlike many of the other examples here, Moya’s structure and systems are almost entirely biological, rather than engineered (although she has some technological components).

Like voidmoths, leviathans appear to have originated as a natural space-inhabiting species, capable of a faster-than-light starburst, with ships like Moya captured when young and fitted with a control collar to ensure their compliance. While we see few wild Leviathans, it is clear that they have a form of culture, including ceremonial laying to rest of their dead. Moya’s motivation for hosting the fugitives initially seems to be a simple desire for freedom. However her deeper reason for escape becomes clear when they learn that their captors, the ruthlessly misnamed Peacekeepers, were experimenting on Moya’s unborn child, turning the infant Talyn into an unpredictable and unstable warship.

Life, but not as we know it

Sentient, living starships continue to recur in science fiction up to the current day. Indeed, if anything, organic ships appear to be becoming more common in SF, where they were relatively uncommon in the mid twentieth-century “Golden Age” of the genre. In part this reflects a shift in societal focus from the wonders of industrialisation to the potential treasures of, and dangers to, our natural world. Rather than highly technical metallic rockets, biological engineering, synergy with the natural world and even symbiosis are now seen as reflecting the most likely and sustainable future for humanity. Organic ships such as Moya are seen as nurturing and able to provide companionship in a way that a hollow metal shell would not. In the deeps of space, with small crews on long journeys, the additional comfort may be a necessary crutch for the crews [2]. 

The many engineered or human-modified ships in these stories also frame discussions of autonomy, freedom and control, as well as asking to what extent the creators or modifiers bear a responsibility for their creations. In the case of the Edenists of Hamilton’s The Reality Dysfunction, that responsibility is recognised and reciprocal, with the fertilised zygotes of a human captain’s own offspring entrusted to infant voidhawks. However in other instances, as in the case of the Voidmoths in Machineries of Empire, the crews remain in ignorance of the extent of their responsibility, and the scientists in the know conceal their culpability for imprisoning the sentient life. In still other cases, such as Natural History’s Forged, the human-equivalent status of the vessels are recognised, but this still does not prevent prejudice and exploitation. Here the (artificial) evolution of humanity into space-capable craft explores the limit of what it means to be (post-)human and have human rights.

Even in Farscape, one of the more challenging episodes (“DNA Mad Scientist”,1999) involved the crew selling biomaterial from Moya’s Pilot against his will, in return for promised assistance. Egalitarian freedom fighters or not, it is clear that not everyone aboard is equal. Farscape’s Talyn narrative also addresses the question of responsibility and autonomy. The young Leviathan is deeply affected by its unusual origin, and both Moya and her crew struggle with their sense of responsibility for Talyn’s actions, while trying to balance his own justified desire for freedom and autonomy.

While the action of engineered living ships stand as a caution to the scientists and engineers responsible for their development, their existence is perhaps a logical extrapolation from today’s bio-technological sciences. Biotechnology is already more pervasive in our society than many realise, and arguably dates back to humans first harnessing yeasts and bacteria in the production of bread, beer and dairy products. Bacteria are used to filter harmful chemicals from mining, oil spills and other industrial waste, while other microorganisms including algae are used to generate biofuels and create air and water filters. Viruses and phages are used in medical applications and for genetic therapies. Biomembranes include synthetic polymers and derivatives of cellulose, chitin and algae membranes. Their shaping through 3D bio-printing is in rapid development, and has the potential to create replacement organs and other structures. At a still more basic level, biological washing powders can be found in many houses and make use of microorganisms to improve everyday low temperature laundry performance.

All of these technologies are relative new, and while biotechnology is closely regulated in most jurisdictions, the law inevitably races to keep up with new innovations and ideas in the field. Despite this enormous progress in biotech, though, modern biotechnologies fall a long way short of creating a bio-device even close to as complex as the living ships in science fiction. No bio-technology currently in use is an entirely closed system - all are replenished and refreshed from the much vaster reservoir of biological resilience on Earth. And certainly no biotechnology currently known is capable of creating independent thought, or of modifying existing organisms to become sentient. While science fiction narratives may act as a cautionary tale of the ultimate misuse of these technologies, they potentially lose impact by extrapolating far into the future of an industry which will have vast impacts long before such extremes are reached.

Perhaps more immediate is the sense of wonder provoked by stories of living ships. The symbiosis of disparate species, including those which exist inside another creature, opens our eyes to the possibility that life might exist out there whose internal habitat would indeed be suitable for human life, while the vastness of space conjures visions of vast star whales and other giants of the interstellar deep. The thought broadens our horizons and opens our minds to new possibilities. One day, perhaps, we’ll find life out there in space. And perhaps it will be vast and nurturing and protective. Perhaps it won’t.

Science fiction is a way of parsing our fears for the present, but it’s also an arena for exploring big ideas. Sentient starships are amongst the biggest.