Ever since he sat in the chair, he's been able to hear it. He can hear her in his head, the ship, his Destiny, like a siren song in the back of his mind. She sounds like the whisper of space and the scream of stars. He can hear every color in the faster-than-light vortex as if they were notes in a symphony. The ship herself is a relentless low bass note filled with promises of things that were and things to come. Every new planet is a new refrain and flying through the white-hot stars is a high keen of pleasure and power. The sound throbs in his head day and night, sometimes so heartbreakingly beautiful it takes his breath away. It's an otherworldly anthem, bone-crushing silence and earth-shattering noise all at once. This is the music that orchestrates his days.
Nicholas Rush wouldn't have it any other way.