A Visitor to the Future - 131 - The Boiling Point
We departed Anchor station in a skiff - a very small craft used for movement between the various ships and stations in Earth orbit. Every seat was filled by the six of us, with the vessel feeling quite claustrophobic. Gatecrash and Regolith sat in the pilot and co-pilot's seats respectively, the rest of us strapped in behind. It was odd to see Regolith in the co-pilot role given that he had more flight experience than everyone else in the ship combined, though I figured that Gatecrash would want as much practice as possible given that after dropping us off at Mars, they'd be on their own.
The majestic sight of Earth to my right was distracting me. It was odd to know that what I'd initially taken to be a window wasn't one - it was a projection from a camera mounted on the outside of the hull. I'd been shocked to learn that the skiff had no windows of any kind, in fact, with even the front cockpit a projection. The reason why was concerning.
"Skiffs have no room for luxuries," explained Sarkona, "They have two main purposes - carry passengers and perform maintenance work - and on top of that they have to be able to fit within the parent vessel. A huge amount of the vessel's space is filled with armor plating, which is used as protection against both radiation and impacts. By putting a window in that, you'd be compromising the protection."
"That's not to say it can't be done!" added Anode from where she was sat behnind me, "The Boiling Point has windows - the difference is that they're in airlocked sections of the vessel. So if they do get compromised there will be no danger to the rest of the interior. You'll see when we get there."
"Does that sort of thing happen often?" I asked.
"No, not on inner system ships," continued Sarkona, "The Consortium closely monitors all majorly-trafficked space, like where the cycler routes are. The Boiling Point needs that level of redundancy as Gatecrash gets further out into the edges of the system. The further out you get, the less protection the Consortium can provide."
"Why is that?" I asked.
"Space is big," said Gatecrash, turning their head to look at me over their shoulder, "We may be able to track asteroids and comets but it's almost impossible to see something like tiny fragment of rock unless you're practically on top of it. That's one of the main reasons why Kesslerites do what they do, to enhance our knowledge of that area."
"Uh, shouldn't you be looking where you're flying?" I said, concerned at Gatecrash's lack of attention to the viewscreen.
Gatecrash laughed, "I'm using my neural link, not the projections to fly! But I appreciate you looking out."
I made an "ah" sound and nodded, realizing my own naivety. Of course that made sense - there weren't even any readouts of speed or distance on the cockpit display. The projections on the inside were purely a consideration for the passengers like myself, who either didn't have a neural link or hadn't thought to use it.
"If you'd like, I'll pair your neural link with the skiff," suggested Tungsten, who was also seated behind me, "It'll give you a much better view of the Boiling Point as we approach."
"Sure," I said, "Why not?" It had been some time since I'd used my link. I'd tried some of the modern ways of interacting with devices but hadn't been able to master neural keyboards or interfaces. Looking back on the Resiliency tournament, I was certain the only reason I'd been able to use a Proxy was that the experience was designed to be as intuitive as possible. My vision flickered, and suddenly I was tumbling through the air, spinning in an inky black void that made no sense. There was suddenly too much information - displays and starlight and metrics all filling my field of view. Chatter filled my head, omnipresent. I felt dizzy.
"Nope, no - Tungsten!" exclaimed Anode's voice - which I could now hear from simultaneously behind me and within me - no, from within the ship, which was now me. "Here, let me. Start simple!"
A few seconds later, the chaotic surge of information was filtered down, and my sense of balance returned as my viewpoint was anchored to a single point on the hull of our ship. Then, the displays vanished and other senses were muted, leaving me with only the sensations of my own body - just with my visual feed fed through the camera. It felt very much like I was sticking my head through the hull of the ship.
"Much better," said Anode, "That should be comfortable for you now. I'll keep an eye on your readouts."
"My apologies, Nat," said Tungsten, "I didn't think to adjust from the default settings."
I groaned, shaking my head, "What was all of that? My head is spinning! Can you all make sense of it?" I asked.
"With practice you can," said Sarkona's voice from next to me, "It's a far more convenient way of piloting a vessel when you can intuitively feel different sources of information. The exterior camera feeds are also combined into one three-dimensional view - it can be disorientating to begin with."
"It felt like I was the skiff for a second there," I said.
"That is the idea," said Anode, "But I don't think you're quite ready for that. What I will do is walk you through visual processing. I'll rig up some gestures for you, one second."
With Anode's help my grasp of the exterior camera view quickly improved. She set up waypoints for me to test my tracking, and hand gestures to control the various functionality of the camera - you could filter out background stars and add labels to various items of interest. But the most incredible feature had to be the zoom. I could look down at any point on the surface of the planet just like viewing a satellite map.
"This isn't only the skiff's data," clarified Anode, "The Consortium is transmitting relevant information to enhance your feeds in real time. You're actually using orbital cameras here, but the Consortium adjusts the image so it conforms with your perspective."
"I think I get it," I said, "Like a computer model? Is there a way to filter that out, so I can only see what the actual camera sees?"
"There is now," said Anode after a short delay, "Make a swiping motion with your right little finger."
I did so and the clarity of the image diminished greatly, appearing blurry and unfocused. I made the motion again and the image returned to pristine detail. I could pick out individual beaches across the coastline of Australia.
Regolith spoke up - it was the first time he'd said anything since we'd boarded the skiff. "That visual information combination technology is based upon Sharpsight, originally developed for military piloting purposes. It is almost as old as I am."
"Let's turn your gaze outward, get you used to tracking things in space," suggested Anode, "Here, check this waypoint."
A glowing orb appeared at the edge of my point of view, and I spun around to face it, my view passing over stars and orbiting habitats alike. I centred my view on the orb, and then zoomed in.
It was a ship unlike any I'd seen before. Largely speaking, the vessel was Y-shaped, with the V of that Y being a massive detection array which grasped toward the stars in a root-like way, but with spindly metal filaments and surfaces connecting the various roots which looked like sheets of fabric pulled taut over the limbs. It dwarfed the rest of the vessel. Connected behind the detection array, a third of the remainder was an angular cone-shaped armored prow bristling with more aerials, though I could spy small rounded dome windows in a ring around the exterior. Behind that was a small gravity ring, barely protrouding from the hull of the vessel, such that the prow overlapped one side. Finally, the ship's fuel tanks and engines took up the rear. All in all, the vessel looked almost industrial in nature, especially compared to the Promise of Sol and the orbital stations around Earth. The only aesthetic consideration was the vessel's paintjob - brilliant white with a red line which ran down the length of the vessel. Just above the line, at the front of the vessel in red tie-dyed capital letters were the words BOILING POINT.
"This was not what I was expecting!" I said, "I was thinking of something like the Promise of Sol. The level of bulk here reminds me of the ships I saw in a projection Sasha showed me once."
Sarkona laughed, "There's a definite contrast between inner and outer system ships."
"Anything you want a run-down on?" asked Gatecrash, "I'll happily show you these up-close too."
"The front - it looks like some kind of detection array?" I said to start.
A bright light appeared in my field of view, directing me to a specific point on the array. I zoomed in to see that array was even more detailed that I'd thought in the first place. Web-like gossamer strands hung off the metal filaments - they almost looked like hairs.
"You're right!" said Gatecrash, "This is the key component of the Boiling Point. Like any Kesslerite vessel, the effectiveness of your trip is determined by the sensitivity of the instruments you bring with you. This array is filled with every detection method imaginable - I'll be looking for stray molecules and tiny pulses of radiation in a space almost devoid of them. Plus, any signals that might be out there. If you can imagine it, that detection array looks for it. The array also determines the lifespan of the vessel - the vast majority of the vessel's drones will be occupied with maintaining it. When it drops below a certain level of effectiveness - about 20% - it's time to head home. Depending on what you're doing, that can take a few decades, though."
"You're not planning on spending that long out there, are you?" I asked.
"I'll see," said Gatecrash, "This is my first deep space trip, so I'll take it one day at a time."
"What about the prow? There's a lot of armor plating there." I asked.
"Interesting take on the name," said Gatecrash, pointing me to the feature with another waypoint, "We call that the Forefort. The gravity ring and the Forefort are the two areas where the crew and sensitive equipment reside, where they're protected to the highest degree possible - hopefully that explains all the plating for you. That's also where the skiff dock and Consortium core is."
"Sorry, core?"
"A core is a small, portable extension of the Consortium," explained Gatecrash, "You get deep enough into space and the Consortium's remote transmissions aren't reliable enough. So, you bring one with you to manage local operations and send communications back to the main Consortium itself. I know that some Kesslerites don't bother to bring one to save space."
Tungsten chimed in, "There's a saying in deep space that I've heard of - the Consortium's greatest enemy is the speed of light. Transmissions take time to reach their destination. Bringing something portable is the only way to bridge that gap."
The Consortium seemed omnipresent on Earth, to the extent that heading to an area without it now seemed strange to me. I suddenly realised that I had become used to the convenience of being able to instantly access any information I wanted at any time, or communicate with my friends whenever I wanted to.
"The gravity ring here looks a fair bit smaller than the ones I've seen before," I added.
"Yes, I almost wasn't going to fit one," Gatecrash said, "Though I'm glad I did in the end. That where your sleeping quarters are - and Sarkona's too. Plus a canteen and social space. Not that I need a canteen - I might take it out when we reach Mars."
"What about the engines?" I asked to round off the explanation of the vessel.
"Sure," continued Gatecrash, "I'm using a mixture of chemical and ion drives. Chemical for the big burns, ion drives for deep space. I've also got a reaction control system for maneouvring embedded throughout the vessel. Between the engines and the gravity ring is an area called the Factory - that's where the fuel for both the chemical and ion drives are, and the fabricators - most things relating to the functioning of the vessel as a vessel - oh, and the rescue drones too."
I zoomed in to try and see if I could pick out all the features Gatecrash had pointed out, but they were all too packed together. I'd have to try and unpack them mentally once we were aboard. I did see the places for the rescue drones, though - they were identical to the ones Sarkona had pointed out to me on the Promise of Sol - probably a standard design.
"Speaking of rescue drones," I said, "What would happen if something went really wrong? How would you get help?"
"Good question," said Gatecrash, "It depends on exactly what went wrong. The Forefort and ring are designed to resist most threats, including engine failure or fuel combustion. The ship's drones can repair almost any fault, so that's not really a worry. As for most other things, the Consortium core constantly reports on the ship's condition to the main Consortium, so if I suddenly went missing it'd send another vessel to investigate. If the ship's reactor somehow died I'd power off until help arrived. It's actually the same for human crewmembers - I have four cryocontainment capsules aboard for worst-case scenarios for your benefit. I think I'll be removing most of the human accomodations when we reach Mars though. Despite all that, deep space exploration isn't without risk. The risk of it happening is really low, but I could run into something that I have no countermeasure or preparation for."
"It is often not possible to eliminate risks entirely," said Regolith with an almost wistful tone, "Only reduce and mitigate it."
Anode laughed, "I find that risks are what make life fun!"