Darksaber1
Secret Emperor
The Farthest Point
The crew compartment of the PV Certain Way was already small enough, looking more like a parasite clinging to the outer shell of cargo bay than the centre of operations. As a result, the observation gallery rather brought to mind a recursive parasite; a tick clinging to a leech, or some such. The design was not without its reasons, of course, however unfortunate: the cargo bays were packed with automated drop-bots, designed to ferry pre-fabed parts down to the cold rock below, then assemble them into the foundations the latter vessels would build the new colony off of. That was the most important part of the ship, unless that was the thick block of engines, fuel tanks and reactors behind it. The crew quarters, meanwhile just needed to house six people who were only around in case of emergencies, and were all old enough to have proper, old-world genehacks for zero-gee tolerance, unlike the newer vessels. The observation gallery, meanwhile, was exposed and fragile, so stuck off of the side to allow it to isolated if anything happened to it. Simple design logic. Somewhat poor imagery.
The gallery itself was a simple bubble of transparent composite layers, with a belt that housed flexible shutters to protect against micro-meteors and dust when not in use, all inset with invisible displays and interfaces that augmented both the natural view and a users implanted displays (or replaced them, if a user lacked them). Someone could control and entire drone operation in style from here, floating a bubble surrounded by space and stars.
Most people preferred the comfy chairs in the main crew area, though.
It didnt matter right now anyway. The loader-builders were running on auto-mode, and even the best direct viewing equipment would only be able to show a user the lights where the drones were operating, some hundred kilometres away. Right now, only one person was floating in the bubble, and she had not interest in running any equipment down there.
Something the matter up there, Torsel?
The message (text only) popped onto her message tray, bringing the display into view. She took her time considering her reply, letting the message fade away on her vision. It would be a serious breach of etiquette not to respond, even if the reply was nothing more personable than a request to shove off. There were things you didnt do aboard a ship, and ignoring your fellow crew was one of the biggies, even when they can check your vitals and positions on their displays.
Just thinking things over.
Deep thoughts? Youve been floating-still for an hour.
I suppose.
Hrm, you save up all your philosophising to spend at once? The only real depth Ive gotten out of you since you came on board has been the depth of your snark-well.
Ah, Captain-Councillor. Handle with care.
Sorta. Tell you what, once I figure it out, Ill tell you later. Deal?
Aright. Try not to float there for too long, though. Its kind of creepy that you can do that.
She rolled her eyes at that, and with a small twitch in a few muscle groups caused herself to gently turn a cartwheel while barely changing her posture.
Yeah, things like that.
Muscle control. We used to learn this stuff in school. Play nice, and maybe I'll teach you a few tricks later.
With her fellow crew assuaged (for now) she turned back to her thoughts.
She had booked to come out to Wonder to take a look around New Horizons, intending to take a look at the pretty weirdness and then leave. However, after arriving she had felt a flash of Insight? Motivation? Divine Inspiration? and instead grabbed a position on one of the survey vessels heading out to the cold rock rimward in the system, where there were new plans for mines and such. Once out here
Q13 E-delta was not an interesting world. It was cold and dead in every sense of the word; a geothermally dead rock orbiting an unremarkable gas-giant in the outer reaches of a red-dwarf star. But
Context.
A small dead world sharing its system with an utterly alien biosphere, located light years away from her societies current home, itself on the far side on the galaxy from her birthplace on the shores of Hudson Bay. It was...
There might have been words to gauge homesickness, and the realization that youre are very far away, in a very strange place, uncountable kilometres to the power of kilometres (or maybe peta- or tera- or whvrmetres) from where you were born, and centuries since.
She had heard a few people referring to Q13 E-delta as Far Point, and hadnt really been certain what they meant. She still wasnt, but now, at least, she had a personal definition that she could apply to it.
Here she was, floating in a thin bubble, kilometres above a rock millions of klicks away from a star that was light years away from her home which was tens of thousands of light years away from where she was born. If they could build a telescope big enough, they would probably still be seeing several different species of humans trying to out-survive each other back on earth while avoiding being eaten by giant cats.
A Far Point it was.
The crew compartment of the PV Certain Way was already small enough, looking more like a parasite clinging to the outer shell of cargo bay than the centre of operations. As a result, the observation gallery rather brought to mind a recursive parasite; a tick clinging to a leech, or some such. The design was not without its reasons, of course, however unfortunate: the cargo bays were packed with automated drop-bots, designed to ferry pre-fabed parts down to the cold rock below, then assemble them into the foundations the latter vessels would build the new colony off of. That was the most important part of the ship, unless that was the thick block of engines, fuel tanks and reactors behind it. The crew quarters, meanwhile just needed to house six people who were only around in case of emergencies, and were all old enough to have proper, old-world genehacks for zero-gee tolerance, unlike the newer vessels. The observation gallery, meanwhile, was exposed and fragile, so stuck off of the side to allow it to isolated if anything happened to it. Simple design logic. Somewhat poor imagery.
The gallery itself was a simple bubble of transparent composite layers, with a belt that housed flexible shutters to protect against micro-meteors and dust when not in use, all inset with invisible displays and interfaces that augmented both the natural view and a users implanted displays (or replaced them, if a user lacked them). Someone could control and entire drone operation in style from here, floating a bubble surrounded by space and stars.
Most people preferred the comfy chairs in the main crew area, though.
It didnt matter right now anyway. The loader-builders were running on auto-mode, and even the best direct viewing equipment would only be able to show a user the lights where the drones were operating, some hundred kilometres away. Right now, only one person was floating in the bubble, and she had not interest in running any equipment down there.
Something the matter up there, Torsel?
The message (text only) popped onto her message tray, bringing the display into view. She took her time considering her reply, letting the message fade away on her vision. It would be a serious breach of etiquette not to respond, even if the reply was nothing more personable than a request to shove off. There were things you didnt do aboard a ship, and ignoring your fellow crew was one of the biggies, even when they can check your vitals and positions on their displays.
Just thinking things over.
Deep thoughts? Youve been floating-still for an hour.
I suppose.
Hrm, you save up all your philosophising to spend at once? The only real depth Ive gotten out of you since you came on board has been the depth of your snark-well.
Ah, Captain-Councillor. Handle with care.
Sorta. Tell you what, once I figure it out, Ill tell you later. Deal?
Aright. Try not to float there for too long, though. Its kind of creepy that you can do that.
She rolled her eyes at that, and with a small twitch in a few muscle groups caused herself to gently turn a cartwheel while barely changing her posture.
Yeah, things like that.
Muscle control. We used to learn this stuff in school. Play nice, and maybe I'll teach you a few tricks later.
With her fellow crew assuaged (for now) she turned back to her thoughts.
She had booked to come out to Wonder to take a look around New Horizons, intending to take a look at the pretty weirdness and then leave. However, after arriving she had felt a flash of Insight? Motivation? Divine Inspiration? and instead grabbed a position on one of the survey vessels heading out to the cold rock rimward in the system, where there were new plans for mines and such. Once out here
Q13 E-delta was not an interesting world. It was cold and dead in every sense of the word; a geothermally dead rock orbiting an unremarkable gas-giant in the outer reaches of a red-dwarf star. But
Context.
A small dead world sharing its system with an utterly alien biosphere, located light years away from her societies current home, itself on the far side on the galaxy from her birthplace on the shores of Hudson Bay. It was...
There might have been words to gauge homesickness, and the realization that youre are very far away, in a very strange place, uncountable kilometres to the power of kilometres (or maybe peta- or tera- or whvrmetres) from where you were born, and centuries since.
She had heard a few people referring to Q13 E-delta as Far Point, and hadnt really been certain what they meant. She still wasnt, but now, at least, she had a personal definition that she could apply to it.
Here she was, floating in a thin bubble, kilometres above a rock millions of klicks away from a star that was light years away from her home which was tens of thousands of light years away from where she was born. If they could build a telescope big enough, they would probably still be seeing several different species of humans trying to out-survive each other back on earth while avoiding being eaten by giant cats.
A Far Point it was.