The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [148]
Nikko blushed. “Okay, I admit it.”
“And we can’t afford any lost time. In fact, I’ll even pilot the ship if you want. Go take a nap or do some homework.”
“I completed my schooling five years ago.”
“Nobody ever completes schooling. You can always keep learning.”
“You never wanted to pilot a ship before. Come to think of it, when you worked in our greenhouse domes, I don’t think you liked it there either.”
Crim let out a long sigh. “At least in the greenhouses I was with your mother.” Both of them fell silent for a moment, remembering how Marla Chan Tylar had been killed by the Klikiss. “I guess I have a pretty dim Guiding Star. For the time being I’m satisfied to be working with you.”
“I’m glad we got that resolved, then.”
And they were off to Jonah 12, where Jess and Cesca had planted a seedpool of wentals some months earlier. “Did I ever tell you what happened the time I came to supply the Roamer base, but found all the Klikiss robots already there? I rescued Speaker Peroni — ”
“You’ve told everyone that story more than once,” Crim said, but not in a surly voice. “It seems to grow more dramatic each time.”
“I couldn’t make this stuff up.”
“Well, you handled yourself well; that’s all I’ve got to say.”
Nikko was happy to accept the compliment.
The ship finally arrived at the frozen planetoid, its cargo bay ready to be filled with a swell of fresh wentals. A few old Roamer control satellites and orbital-processing stations remained high overhead; the radio bands were silent except for the background hiss of static. Nikko felt a lump in his throat, remembering the terrors he had endured in this place. As he flew the ship down toward the planetoid, his father stared out the windowports, awestruck at the size of the ice crater left by the reactor explosion.
“Look!” Crim said. “I see lights down there.”
“Must be reflections from stars. Nobody’s left on Jonah 12.”
His father scowled at him. “I know what a reflection looks like. That’s intrinsic phosphorescence. Something luminous is locked in the ice.”
Nikko studied his readings, saw energy blips. “Then it’s probably the wentals waiting for us.” During the descent, he spotted more than just the refrozen ice of the crater or the shimmer of energy. He saw some makeshift structures — a little hut connected to an escape pod.
Frowning, he fiddled with the communications system, turned up the pickup strength, and searched standard Roamer emergency bands. Finally, he picked up a faint oscillating pulse. “Someone’s crashed down there, Dad!”
Crim had already reached the same conclusion. “So land the ship already.”
Once on the surface, Nikko made out a very cleverly constructed shelter that appeared to be made from the remnants of a large satellite appended to a Roamer escape pod. He detected energy sources and strong thermal readings emanating from inside the shelter. “Chances are, whoever crashed is still alive.”
Crim was already suiting up, and as soon as locking bolts secured the Aquarius to the ice, Nikko scrambled out to join his father. “An escape pod contains supplies only for a week or so, right?”
“Depends on how many people are inside,” Crim transmitted over the helmet radio as the two emerged from the airlock. “I’d be very disappointed if our survivor died yesterday because we didn’t show up soon enough.”
They hurried across the ice. Nikko saw splashes of glowing light beneath his feet as if each footstep ignited some kind of luminescence. He stopped in front of the pod and studied the satellite fuselage attached to its side. “Do we knock?”
The dwelling was cobbled together without neat corners and angles; flat pieces were stuck everywhere, even if they didn’t fit — no aesthetic accomplishment, but it seemed functional. Nikko couldn’t believe that such a hodgepodge could be airtight and structurally sound, but a cocoon of flowing ice had covered the joints and sealed them. Obviously, the wentals had armored and insulated this place. Maybe they had even supplied additional energy to keep the