Every tale is told in a setting. When that setting is more than the tale, it is a History or maybe a Geographic Survey. The conflict that hooks the reader to follow the thread and turn the page is what lies between the men and the women who inhabit the space. And that dynamic has not changed much over the millennia.
There is a backdrop painted in to start a train of thought. It could be a castle or a cave or a Greek Expeditionary Force--anything that makes a credible excuse for the characters to enter and circle around. Nothing happens until somebody says--"I like the way you turn your head and smile."
The creation of a planetary web is as good a backdrop as any other for a journey of discovery. A space cruiser is an okay stage for the Power Executive to harbour emotions of passion or dislike for the elegant Communications Lieutenant. They share their destination with Darcy and Elizabeth or Anna and Vronsky.
And, anyway, the sophisticated world of Fingalna is no further outside the everyday experience of a dweller in Brooklyn or Manchester than the mannered world of an Eighteenth Century landowner is to a Twenty-First Century high-rise city dweller.
Dag Fletcher was imagined as the Hornblower of the Space Lanes. Basically diffident and prone to self-criticism, he has to talk himself into action. Once committed, he is an unstoppable force. Where Hornblower has a Ship-of-the-Line, Fletcher has a Space Cruiser and covers the immense distances of space by the adjustments of Rationalised Time.
So, all the reader has to do is to suspend disbelief and wait with growing interest to see how the wheel comes full circle and the two protagonists recognise that: "Amor Vincit Omnia,"--as the Prioress wisely had it! John Rankine. 17/10/2002
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