Prologue
SUS HIGHLANDER
For there to be darkness, there must be at least the possibility of light. In the realms where Highlander flew, light was not even a concept.
For her crew, there was light of a sort: an imitation of light, a virtual light: computer generated, pumped directly to their optic nerves through direct neural interfaces. For beings that belonged in a universe of light, it was necessary to have sight: to work their ship, to keep their sanity.
On the virtual bridge, Jonathan Mark Kade, Captain, Sol Union Navy, watched his virtual crew at their stations. Their physical bodies were in the VR harnesses, as were his. If he wished, he could bring his perception to his physical location, and observe his body in the gossamer armour that fed, supported, exercised and generally looked after him: but experienced starship crew rarely did. He could even disconnect VR altogether, and experience directly what it was like to travel faster than light: but starship crew never did.
Instead he sat in his (virtual) command chair, and watched the bridge crew. A minimal crew, while the ship was superC: two on Scan, monitoring particle flow and gravitics. An Engineering crew, maintaining the power bleed-off from the tachyon masts, watching subsystems: environment, internal comms, internal gravity. Much of the bridge was empty: no-one on the Weapons boards, external Comm, or half the Engineering and Scan sections. One person on Helm: with very little to do, except monitor heading and track, and feed data to the Masthouse.
In superC, the Masthouse was where it all happened, the centre of activity. Kade swung his viewpoint around to look in the Masthouse. A full voyage crew was closed up, one for each of Highlander’s eight masts, plus the Mast Chief of the Watch, monitoring and co-ordinating the whole operation.
All Mastcrew believed that they were the most important members of a starship’s complement: Mast Chiefs knew it. Whilst in superC, Kade would concede they were right. It was the Mastcrew that monitored the flow of superC particles, that tuned the masts to catch them, that kept Highlander in the superC stream, that guided her from star to star. Their VR was tuned directly into their boards, experiencing the particle flow as intimately as possible, and making the subtle manipulations in the crystal masts that caught the stream and drove the ship.
It was a job that required skill, and experience, and intuition. So far, no computer had ever been able to match a good human operator. Mastcrew talked about having the feel, the touch, the blood for it: but not even other starship crew could really understand it. Only Mastcrew.
The Mast Chief glanced round, slipping briefly into the same VR as the rest of the bridge crew, and caught his captains eye.
“Running smooth, sir.” He reported. “In the tube.” Meaning, in the fastest flow of the stream.
“Very good, Chief.” Kade nodded. He flicked up a display: estimated journey time and actual track corresponded closely. If anything, they were ahead of schedule. “Keep this up, and we’ll set a record!”
Mast Chief Hayshi permitted himself a small smile. “Aye to that sir. She can run, this lady!” Something caught his eye in a VR display invisible to the Captain, and he turned his attention away. “Eddy building, 14 – high, starboard. 1 and 5, stand by to trim down, 5%.”
All routine. Kade turned away again, and noted that the ETA had been revised again: it now showed 8 days, 3 hours, 20 minutes to Jade System.
Beyond light and dark, in a realm that laggard photons could never reach, Highlander soared, catching the tachyon stream in crystal masts, riding the wind between the stars.
SUS HIGHLANDER
For there to be darkness, there must be at least the possibility of light. In the realms where Highlander flew, light was not even a concept.
For her crew, there was light of a sort: an imitation of light, a virtual light: computer generated, pumped directly to their optic nerves through direct neural interfaces. For beings that belonged in a universe of light, it was necessary to have sight: to work their ship, to keep their sanity.
On the virtual bridge, Jonathan Mark Kade, Captain, Sol Union Navy, watched his virtual crew at their stations. Their physical bodies were in the VR harnesses, as were his. If he wished, he could bring his perception to his physical location, and observe his body in the gossamer armour that fed, supported, exercised and generally looked after him: but experienced starship crew rarely did. He could even disconnect VR altogether, and experience directly what it was like to travel faster than light: but starship crew never did.
Instead he sat in his (virtual) command chair, and watched the bridge crew. A minimal crew, while the ship was superC: two on Scan, monitoring particle flow and gravitics. An Engineering crew, maintaining the power bleed-off from the tachyon masts, watching subsystems: environment, internal comms, internal gravity. Much of the bridge was empty: no-one on the Weapons boards, external Comm, or half the Engineering and Scan sections. One person on Helm: with very little to do, except monitor heading and track, and feed data to the Masthouse.
In superC, the Masthouse was where it all happened, the centre of activity. Kade swung his viewpoint around to look in the Masthouse. A full voyage crew was closed up, one for each of Highlander’s eight masts, plus the Mast Chief of the Watch, monitoring and co-ordinating the whole operation.
All Mastcrew believed that they were the most important members of a starship’s complement: Mast Chiefs knew it. Whilst in superC, Kade would concede they were right. It was the Mastcrew that monitored the flow of superC particles, that tuned the masts to catch them, that kept Highlander in the superC stream, that guided her from star to star. Their VR was tuned directly into their boards, experiencing the particle flow as intimately as possible, and making the subtle manipulations in the crystal masts that caught the stream and drove the ship.
It was a job that required skill, and experience, and intuition. So far, no computer had ever been able to match a good human operator. Mastcrew talked about having the feel, the touch, the blood for it: but not even other starship crew could really understand it. Only Mastcrew.
The Mast Chief glanced round, slipping briefly into the same VR as the rest of the bridge crew, and caught his captains eye.
“Running smooth, sir.” He reported. “In the tube.” Meaning, in the fastest flow of the stream.
“Very good, Chief.” Kade nodded. He flicked up a display: estimated journey time and actual track corresponded closely. If anything, they were ahead of schedule. “Keep this up, and we’ll set a record!”
Mast Chief Hayshi permitted himself a small smile. “Aye to that sir. She can run, this lady!” Something caught his eye in a VR display invisible to the Captain, and he turned his attention away. “Eddy building, 14 – high, starboard. 1 and 5, stand by to trim down, 5%.”
All routine. Kade turned away again, and noted that the ETA had been revised again: it now showed 8 days, 3 hours, 20 minutes to Jade System.
Beyond light and dark, in a realm that laggard photons could never reach, Highlander soared, catching the tachyon stream in crystal masts, riding the wind between the stars.