Horizon Storms - Kevin J. Anderson [142]
Wandering about without a schedule or specified destination was perfect for Nikko’s talents and sensibilities. He rarely arrived where or when he was expected, and now he didn’t need to worry about the embarrassment of getting distracted. The throbbing wentals stored in containers belowdecks didn’t seem to mind. The water creatures lived on a different time scale, exhilarated just to know that the tides of the Spiral Arm would soon turn.
Nikko entered his next proposed destination into the log, which he would alter after the fact if he decided to end up somewhere else. “I think…we’re going back to Ptoro,” he said aloud, hoping for some sort of response. After all, Jess had been able to communicate with the wentals even before he’d “joined” with them. “I know there’s no water there for you, but I promise to find you some right after we see Ptoro. It could be interesting. No one’s been there since the Eddies used the Klikiss Torch. I’ll take images to show my parents, even though they both hated Ptoro.”
As he thought of his family history, Nikko wondered if the wentals could sense the information in his head. His great-grandfather had bought an old Ildiran skymining monstrosity on Ptoro, and for two generations clan Tylar had operated the rig, though it wasn’t very efficient. They got by, but the Tylars never made enough profit to upgrade the systems. His father, Crim, resented having to run his grandfather’s boondoggle.
The clouds had always been cold on Ptoro. The antique cloud-harvesting complex had made creaking noises, and Crim had complained about it all his life. Nikko had spent the years of his youth shivering on the skymine, looking down at the iron-gray cloud tops.
Crim’s wife, Marla Chan, had come from an asteroid greenhouse complex that grew fresh food for Roamer settlements. Because the Chan greenhouses were always warm, bathed in sunlight, Nikko’s mother had never taken to the frigid clouds and drafts of Ptoro. Thus, when the hydrogues demanded that all ekti harvesting cease, Crim had been more than happy to withdraw his skymine, find a way to sell it for scrap, then take the money and invest in the Chan greenhouses. Now he and Marla worked happily under the bright sunlight, growing food.
Nikko, though, was too restless. A true Roamer, with the urge to wander from place to place, he’d found decent employment delivering ekti supplies and making runs to Roamer outposts. He liked the excitement of Rendezvous or Hurricane Depot, but he could tolerate the noise and bustle for only so long before he needed to climb back aboard and go cruising alone.
This mission with the wentals was the perfect job for him.
The navigational calculations to Ptoro were not particularly difficult, since he had been there many times before. When he arrived at the former gas giant, he ran scans to detect any leftover EDF survey ships or technical observation platforms in the vicinity. But he saw only a new blazing ball where there had once been a cold, gray world.
The Big Goose had blown up the whole planet and, Nikko hoped, taught the drogues a real lesson.
As he orbited closer to the roiling, hot seas, he saw ellipsoidal clumps of flame that moved in random directions, independently…clearly alive. Like Earth porpoises playfully swimming in the incandescent gas layers, they rose and plunged as if reveling in their new territory. The faeros. Nikko smiled with wonder. He’d never expected to see the fire-based entities with his own eyes.
Be cautious.The words rang inside his head. The wentals were talking to him, as they had done with Jess Tamblyn in his nebula skimmer.
“Is there something to worry about? Didn’t the faeros help humans against the hydrogues on Theroc?”
They are capricious, untrustworthy. Their alliances are veiled. Right now they may stand against the hydrogues, but that could always change.
Since his ship had