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Jianjun Zhang
China Academy of Space Technology
Beijing, China
Jing Li
Beijing Institute of Technology
Beijing, China
Copyright © 2024 by The Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers, Inc.
All rights reserved.
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Contents
Index 197
xiii
7 national invention patents as the first author and the National Science and
Technology Progress Award 2 (ranked 8th). The postgraduates whom she guided
have been awarded the second prize of the 14th China Graduate Electronic Design
Competition, the second prize of the first China-Russia (Industrial) Innovation
Competition, and the second prize of the 14th National College Student Smart
Car Competition.
xv
Preface
constantly learn, changing the single passive processing information into active,
intelligent processing information, and even have a certain predictive ability.
With the increasing development of AI algorithms and application technologies,
the next development of intelligent satellites will focus on all aspects: developing the
design of onboard intelligent chips to lay the hardware foundation for satellite
intelligence. Develop satellite system design based on AI to realize a processing
platform that can meet the flexible expansion of multiple tasks and support the
flexible reconfiguration of system resources in case of failure. Develop the on-orbit
fault detection and maintenance technology based on AI to realize the monitoring of
satellite on-orbit status. Carry out research on satellite intelligent control technology
based on AI, and realize the application of real-time intelligent autonomous attitude
control, intelligent autonomous GNC, and intelligent information technology in
aerospace control systems, platforms, and payloads. Carry out research on satellite-
ground integration technology based on AI and build a satellite-ground integration
satellite platform. Finally, combined with intelligent learning algorithm, the
intelligent task of satellite platform is realized.
Jianjun Zhang
China Academy of Space Technology
Beijing, China
Jing Li
Beijing Institute of Technology
Beijing, China
1
Intelligent Satellite Design and Implementation, First Edition. Jianjun Zhang and Jing Li.
© 2024 The Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
2 1 Development of Artificial Intelligence
that of human beings. But this definition seems to ignore the possibility of strong
AI. Another definition is that AI is the intelligence represented by artificial
machines. In general, the current definition of AI can be divided into four catego-
ries, namely, machines “think like people,” “move like people,” “think rationally,”
and “act rationally.” Here, “action” should be broadly understood as the decision
to take action or specify action, rather than physical action.
Strong AI believes that it is possible to produce intelligent machines that can
really reason and solve problems, and such machines will be considered as
perceptual and self-conscious. There are two types of strong AI:
1) Human-like AI, that is, the thinking and reasoning of machines, is like human
thinking.
2) Nonhuman AI, that is, machines produce perception and consciousness com-
pletely different from human beings and use reasoning methods completely
different from human beings.
The term “strong artificial intelligence” was originally created by John Rogers
Hiller for computers and other information-processing machines. Its definition is:
strong AI holds that computers are not only a tool for studying human thinking.
On the contrary, as long as it runs properly, the computer itself is thinking. The
debate on strong AI is different from the debate on monism and dualism in a
broader sense. The main point of the argument is: if the only working principle of
a machine is to convert encoded data, then is the machine thinking? Hiller
thought it was impossible. He gave an example of a Chinese room to illustrate that
if the machine only converts data, and the data itself is a coding representation of
some things, then without understanding the correspondence between this cod-
ing and the actual things, the machine cannot have any understanding of the data
it processes. Based on this argument, Hiller believes that even if a machine passes
the Turing test, it does not necessarily mean it is really thinking and conscious like
a person. There are also philosophers who hold different views. Daniel Dennett
believes in his book Consciousness Explained that man is just a machine with a
soul. Why do we think: “Man can have intelligence, but ordinary machines can’t?”
He believes that it is possible to have thinking and consciousness when data is
transferred to machines like the above.
The weak AI point of view believes that it is impossible to produce intelligent
machines that can really reason and solve problems. These machines just look
intelligent, but they do not really have intelligence, nor do they have autonomous
consciousness. Weak AI came into being when compared with strong AI because
the research on AI was at a standstill for a time, and it began to change and go far
ahead until the artificial neural network (ANN) had a strong computing ability to
simulate. In terms of the current research field of AI, researchers have created a
large number of machines that look like intelligence, and obtained quite fruitful
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confess I am hungry with the search."
Then she sat down by Neville, and he cut her a slice of the
pasty, and Jane filled her wine-glass, and Neville touched his own
against it, and wished her health and happiness. And by an
unspoken agreement they said not a word about the war, but eat
their meal to such cheerful thoughts and conversation as made the
meat and drink wholesome and joyful. Then they sang some
madrigals, and as the shades of evening gathered, Neville began to
tell them wild, weird stories of the Border-Land; and Jane had her
traditions of Swaffham, and Matilda of de Wick, and they sat in the
twilight pleasantly afraid of the phantoms they had themselves
conjured up, drawing close together and speaking with a little awe,
and finding even the short silences that fell upon them very eloquent
and satisfying.
There was then no question of Matilda returning that night to de
Wick, and very soon Mrs. Swaffham joined them, and the servants
began to build up the fire and spread the table for the evening meal.
"Time wears on," she said. "I thought I would take a nap of ten
minutes, but instead of shutting my eyes in a dog sleep, I dropped
oft till candle-lighting. Why are you all looking so yonderly? I hope
Lord Neville has not been a Job's postman; for as far as I can see,
Satan does just as barefaced cruelties now as he did thousands of
years ago."
"We have been talking of fairies, and the gray ghost of Raby,
and the armoured giant that keeps Swaffham portal, and Matilda has
told us many awesome things about Lady Sophia de Wick, whose
ring no one can wear and escape doom."
"Peace to her spirit," ejaculated Mrs. Swaffham, and Jane added
thoughtfully,
"If to such a spirit, peace would be any blessing."
"I would not talk of the dead if I were you; they may be nearer
than you think. And there are wick men and women in plenty to
praise and to ban. Lord Neville has told us nothing at all, yet, about
General Cromwell. I would like to know what is going on. Whatever
has he been doing since Dunbar?"—and Mrs. Swaffham made these
remarks and asked these questions with just a little touch of
impatient irritability.
"The first thing he did when he reached Edinburgh," answered
Neville, "was to order the head of Montrose to be taken down from
the Tolbooth and honourably buried. Some of the army grumbled at
this order, and the Scotch whigs preached and raved about it, and
even Dr. Verity, it is said, spoke sharply to Cromwell on the matter.
And 'tis also said that Cromwell answered with some passion, 'I will
abide by my order, notwithstanding the anger of the foolish. We all
have infirmities; and I tell you, if we had among our ranks more
such faithful hearts and brave spirits, they would be a fence around
us; for indeed there lives not a man who can say worse of Montrose
than that he loved Charles Stuart, and was faithful to him unto
death.'"
"This is the noblest thing I have heard of Oliver Cromwell," said
Matilda, "and my father will rejoice to hear it. How Montrose loved
Charles Stuart I will tell you, for my brother Stephen was with him
when he heard first of the murder of his King. He bowed his head
upon his sword and wept, and when his heart had found some relief
in tears, he stood up and called the King in a mighty voice,—indeed
Stephen told me it was heard beyond all probability,—and with a
great oath he vowed that he would sing his obsequies with
trumpets, and write his epitaph with swords, in blood and death." As
Matilda finished her story, her voice had a tone of triumph, and she
stood up, and raised her eyes, and then made such a sad, reverent
obeisance as she might have done had the dead been alive and
present. No one liked to impugn a ceremony so pathetic and so
hopeless; and a constrained silence followed, which was broken by
Jane asking,
"Where did Charles Stuart go after Dunbar?"
"He went northward to Perth. For a little while he held with
Argyle and the Kirk, but the Covenanters drove him too hard. They
told him he must purify his Court from all ungodly followers, and so
made him dismiss twenty-two English Cavaliers not godly—that is,
not Calvinistic—enough. Then Charles, not willing to endure their
pious tyranny, ran away to the Highlands behind Perth, and though
he was caught and persuaded to return, he did so only on condition
that his friends should be with him and fight for him."
"Why should the Scots object to that?" asked Mrs. Swaffham.
"Because," answered Neville, "these men were mostly
Englishmen and Episcopalians; and the Whigs and Covenanters
hated them as being too often reckless and wicked men, full of
cavalier sauciness. In return, Charles Stuart hated the Whigs and
Covenanters, made a mockery of them, and, it is said, did not
disguise his amusement and satisfaction at the defeat of the godly
army at Dunbar."
"And how did these godly men regard Cromwell?" asked Matilda
with undisguised scorn.
"They troubled us a little in the West," said Neville, "and
Cromwell marched the army to Glasgow, and on the next Sabbath
day the preachers railed at him from every pulpit in that city. One of
them met the Lord General on the street, and attacked him with
threats and evil prophecies. I would have shut his lips with a blow,
but Cromwell said to me, 'Let him alone; he is one fool, and you are
another;' and the very next day he made friends with this preacher,
and I met them coming down the High Street together in very sober
and pleasant discourse. After beating these Whigs well at Hamilton,
we went into winter quarters at Edinburgh; and Cromwell is now
staying at Lord Moray's house in the Canongate."[1]
"He ought to have taken his rest in Holyrood Palace," said Jane.
"I am glad he did not," replied Neville. "'Tis enough to fight the
living Stuart; why should he run into mortal danger by invading the
home of that unlucky family? A man sleeps in his dwelling-place,—
and when he sleeps he is at the mercy of the dead."
"Not so," said Jane. "The good man is at the mercy of God, and
if he sleeps, his angel wakes and watches. 'I will lay me down in
peace and take my rest: for it is Thou, Lord, only, that makest me
dwell in safety.'"
Neville looked steadily at her as she spoke with such a glad
confidence; and Jane's face grew rosy under his gaze, while Neville's
smile widened slowly, until his whole countenance shone with
pleasure.
They spoke next of the Parliament and the Council; and Mrs.
Swaffham said, "For all she could find out, they had been at their
usual work,—good and bad."
"And generally bad," ejaculated Matilda.
"That is not true," said Jane. "Think only of this: they have
commanded the laws of England to be written in English. This order
alone justifies them with the people. Also, they have received foreign
ambassadors with dignity, and taught Holland, France and Spain by
the voice of Blake's cannon that England is not to be trifled with;
and in Ireland they are carrying on, through Ireton and Ludlow, the
good work Cromwell began there."
"Good work, indeed!" cried Matilda.
"Yes, it was good work, grand work, the best work Cromwell
ever did," answered Neville positively; "a most righteous dealing
with assassins, who had slain one hundred thousand Protestants—
men, women and children—while they dwelt in peace among then,
thinking no evil[2] and looking for no injury. When men mad with
religious hatred take fire and sword, when they torture the helpless
with hunger and thirst and freezing cold, in the name of the merciful
Jesus, then there is no punishment too great for them."
[2] See Knight's History of England, Vol. 3, p. 464; Clarendon (royalist historian)
says 50,000; Paxton Hood, Life of Cromwell, p. 141, says as high as 200,000;
Church (American edition) from 50,000 to 200,000 with mutilations and torture;
Imgard, the Catholic historian, in Vol. X, p. 177, admits the atrocity of the
massacre. Many other authorities, notably Hickson's "Ireland in the 17th Century,"
which contains the depositions before Parliament relating to the massacre. These
documents, printed for the first time in 1884, will cause simple wonder that a
terrible massacre on a large scale could ever be questioned, nor in the 17th
century was it ever questioned, nor in the face of these documents can it ever be
questioned, except by those who put their personal prejudice or interest before
the truth.
"The number slain was not as great as you say," interrupted Matilda.
"I have heard it was only ten thousand."
"I care not for the number of thousands," said Neville in a voice
trembling with passion; "men were put to death with all the horrors
religious fanaticism could invent; women and children outraged,
starved, burned or drowned with relentless fury. There were months
of such persecution before help could be got there."
"Very well, Lord Neville," said Matilda in great anger,
"Episcopalians and Calvinists should not have gone to Ireland. I
bought a song from a packman the other day for a farthing, that just
suits them—
CHAPTER V
SHEATHED SWORDS
It will be well now to recall the positions which Charles Stuart and
Cromwell, with their armies, occupied. The royalist defeat at Dunbar
occurred on September the third, A.D. 1650, and Charles, after it,
sought shelter in the fortress of Stirling Castle, where he remained
until he went to Perth. Here, on January the first, 1651, he was
crowned King of Scotland, and then he assumed the command of
Captain-General of the Scotch forces, having under him the Duke of
Hamilton and David Leslie. At this time the Scotch army had become
purely royal and malignant, the Kirk having done its part had retired,
leaving the King to manage his own affairs. During the winter, which
was long and severe, Charles and his army could do nothing; but
when fine weather came and they understood that Cromwell would
march to Perth, the Scotch army went southward, fortifying itself on
the famous Torwood Hill, between Stirling and Falkirk.
This long winter had been one of great suffering to General
Cromwell. After making himself master of the whole country south of
Forth and Clyde, he had a severe illness, and lay often at the point
of death. In the month of May two physicians were sent by
Parliament from London to Edinburgh to attend him, but ere they
arrived, the Lord Himself had been his physician and said unto him,
Live! He took the field in June, throwing the main part of his army
into Fife, in order to cut off the enemy's victual. This move forced
the hand of Charles Stuart. His army was in mutiny for want of
provisions, the North country was already drained, he durst not risk
a battle—but the road into England was clear.
Cromwell himself had gone northward to Perth, and on the
second of August he took possession of that city; but while entering
it was told that Charles Stuart, with fourteen thousand men, had
suddenly left Stirling and was marching towards England. Cromwell
was neither surprised nor alarmed; perhaps, indeed, he had
deliberately opened the way for this move by going northward to
Perth, and leaving the road to England open. At any rate, when
Charles reached the border he found Harrison with a strong body of
horse waiting for him, while Fleetwood with his Yorkshiremen lay
heavy on his left flank, and Lambert with all the English cavalry was
jogging on, pressing close the rear of his army. For in Lambert's ears
was ringing night and day Cromwell's charge to him,—
"Use utmost diligence! With the rest of the horse and men I am
hastening up, and by the Lord's help, I shall be in good time."
Charles had taken the western road by Carlisle, and it was
thought he would make for London. He went at a flying speed past
York, Nottingham, Coventry, until he reached the borders of
Shropshire, summoning every town he passed, but hardly waiting for
the thundering negatives that answered his challenge; for the swift,
steady tramp of Cromwell's pursuit was daily drawing nearer and
nearer. Reaching Shrewsbury, he found the gates shut against him,
and his men were so disheartened that the King with cap in hand
entreated them "yet a little longer to stick to him." For all his hopes
and promises had failed, there had been no rising in his favour, no
surrender of walled towns, and the roads between Shrewsbury and
London were bristling with gathering militia. So Charles turned
westward to Worcester, a city reported to be loyal, where he was
received with every show of honour and affection. Here he set up his
standard on the ill-omened twenty-second of August, the very day
nine years previous, on which his father had planted his unfortunate
standard at Nottingham.
Meanwhile Cromwell was following Charles with a steady
swiftness that had something fateful in it. He had taken Perth on the
second of August; he left it with ten thousand men on the third; he
was on the border by the eighth; he was at Warwick on the twenty-
fourth, where he was immediately joined by Harrison, Fleetwood and
Lambert. Such swiftness and precision must have been prearranged,
either by Cromwell or by Destiny. It was to be the last battle of the
Civil War, and Cromwell knew it, for he had beyond the lot of mortals
that wondrous insight, that prescience, which, like the scabbard of
the sword Excalibur, was more than the blade itself—the hilt armed
with eyes. There was in his soul, even at Perth, the assurance of
Victory, and as he passed through the towns and villages of England,
men would not be restrained. They threw down the sickle and the
spade in the field, the hammer in the forge, the plane at the bench,
and catching hold of the stirrups of the riders, ran with them to the
halting-place. Cromwell had no need to beg Englishmen yet a little
longer to stick to him. His form of rugged grandeur, the majesty and
fierceness of his face, and his air of invincible strength and purpose,
said to all, This is the Pathfinder of your English Freedom! Follow
Him! The man was a magnet, and drew men to him; he looked at
them, and they fell into his ranks; he rode singing of Victory at their
head, and women knelt on the streets and by the roadside to pray
for the success of those going up "For the help of the Lord, and for
England." This battle call, ringing from men at full spur, was taken
up even by the old crones and little children, and their shrill trebles
were added to the mighty shouting of strong men, whose heroic
hands were already tightly closed upon their sword-hilts. So, with his
ten thousand troops augmented to thirty thousand, he reached
Warwick, and making his headquarters at the pretty village of
Keynton near by, he gave his men time to draw breath, and called a
council of war.
Cromwell was now on the very ground where the first battle of
the Civil War had been fought. Nine years previous the Puritan camp
had lain at Keynton with the banner of Charles the First waving in
their sight from the top of Edgehill. Outside the village there was a
large farmhouse, its red tiled roof showing through the laden
orchard trees; and the woman dwelling there gladly welcomed
Cromwell to rest and comfort.
"All my sons are with General Harrison," she said; "and I have
not seen their faces for two years."
"Nevertheless, mistress," said Cromwell, "they shall keep
Harvest Home with you, and go out to fight no more, for the end of
the war is near at hand." He spoke with the fervour of a prophet,
but she had not faith to believe, and she answered—
"My Lord Cromwell, our Sword and our Saviour, their names are
Thanet, James, and John, and Dickson, and Will. Surely you have
heard of them, dead or alive?"
His keen eyes lost their fire and were instantly full of sadness as
he answered, "Oh, woman, why did you doubt? If they have fallen in
battle, truly they are well. Judge not otherwise. Your blood and your
sons' blood has not run to waste."
Two hours after this conversation, Cluny Neville lifted the latch
of the farm gate. He had heard reliably of Cromwell's pursuit of
Charles at Newcastle, and turning back southward, had followed him
as closely as the difficulty of getting horses in the wake of the army
permitted. He was weary and hungry, but he was at last near the
chief he adored. He gave himself a moment of anticipation at the
door of the room, and then he opened it. Cromwell was sitting at the
upper end of a long table. A rough map of the country around
Worcester lay before him, and Harrison, Lambert, Israel Swaffham,
and Lord Evesham were his companions. There were two tallow
candles on the table, and their light shone on the face of Cromwell.
At that moment it was full of melancholy. He seemed to be listening
to the noble fanaticism of Harrison, who was talking fervidly of the
coming of the Kingdom of Christ and the reign of the saints on
earth; but he saw in an instant the entrance of Neville, and with an
almost imperceptible movement commanded his approach.
Neville laid the letters of which he was the bearer before
Cromwell, and his large hand immediately covered them. "Is all
well?" he asked—and reading the answer in the youth's face, added,
"I thank God! What then of the city?"
"Its panic is beyond describing," answered Neville. "Parliament
is beside itself; even Bradshaw is in great fear; there are surmises as
to your good faith, my lord, and the rumours and counter-rumours
are past all believing. London is manifestly with the Commonwealth,
and every man in it is looking to you and to the army for protection.
Some, indeed, I met who had lost heart, and who thought it better
that Charles Stuart should come back than that England should
become a graveyard fighting him."
"Such men are suckled slaves," said Lambert. "I would hang
them without word or warrant for it."
"Yea," said Cromwell; "for Freedom is dead in them. That's their
fault, it will not reach us. Thousands of Englishmen have died to
crown our England with Freedom; for Freedom is not Freedom
unless England be free." Here he rose to his feet, and the last rays
of the setting sun fell across the rapture and stern seriousness of his
face across his shining mail and his majestic soldierly figure. His eyes
blazed with spiritual exaltation, and flamed with human anger, as in
a voice, sharp and untunable, but ringing with passionate fervour, he
cried—
"I say to you, and truly I mean it, if England's Red Cross fly not
above free men, let it fall! Let it fall o'er land and sea forever! The
natural milk of Freedom, the wine and honey of Freedom, which
John Eliot and John Pym and John Hampden gave us to eat and to
drink, broke our shackles and made us strong to rise in the face of
forsworn kings and red-shod priests, devising our slavery. It did
indeed! And I tell you, for I know it, that with this milk of Freedom
England will yet feed all the nations of the world. She will! Only be
faithful, and here and now, God shall so witness for us that all men
must acknowledge it. For I do know that Charles Stuart, and the
men with him, shall be before us like dust on a turning wheel. We
shall have a victory like that of Saul over Nahash, and I know not of
any victory like to it, since the world began—Two of them—not left
together. Amen! But give me leave to say this: In the hour of victory
it were well for us to remember the mercy that was in Saul's heart,
'because that day, the Lord had wrought salvation in Israel.' From
here there are two courses open to us, a right one, and a wrong
one. What say you, Lambert?"
"London is the heart of the nation, and just now it is a faint
heart. I say it were well to turn our noses to London, and to let the
rogues know we are coming."
"What is your thought, Harrison?"
"Worcester is well defended," he answered musingly. "It has
Wales behind it. We cannot fight Charles Stuart till we compass the
city, and to do that, we must be on both sides of the river. Then
Charles could choose on which side he would fight, and we could not
come suddenly to help each other."
"What way look you, Israel?"
"The way of the enemy. I see that he is here. What hinders that
we fight him?"
"Fight him," said lord Evesham, "better now, than later."
"Fight him! That, I tell you, is my mind also," said Cromwell
striking the table with his clinched hand. "Some may judge
otherwise, but I think while we hold Charles Stuart safe, London is
safe also."
"Surely," said Lambert, "it may be more expedient to secure
Charles Stuart, but——"
"Expedient, expedient!" interrupted Cromwell. "Who can make a
conscience out of expediency? Expediency says, it may be;
Conscience says, it is. If Worcester were ten times as strong, I would
not hesitate. God has chosen this battle-field for us, as He chose
Dunbar; and because the place is strong, and because it is on both
sides the river, we will draw closer and closer our crescent of steel
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