sentence.
Though this world was under his personal charge, the Maratha Designate had gone back to Ildira for the funeral of his father and the ascension 52
H O R I Z O N S T O R M S
of Jora’h. Designate Avi’h had made no secret of the fact that he wouldn’t return until the sun shone again and vacationers arrived.
Anton tried to encourage his rememberer friend. “Let’s make the best of it, Vao’sh. If these Cannons of Darkness are as spectacular as I’ve heard, then we’ll have a whole new repertoire of experiences for storytelling. It happens only once each year, right?”
The old Ildiran rememberer had at first been glad to receive this assignment to maintain the spirits of the skeleton crew, but with the onset of long night, Vao’sh had his doubts. Anton planned to shoulder more of the entertainment work, by sharing Earth legends.
The fleshy lobes on the alien historian’s face flickered through a palette of emotions. Wry amusement? Resignation? Anton still couldn’t interpret all the shades of colors, the nuances of their meanings. “All right, Rememberer Anton, let us go look at the Cannons of Darkness, as you suggest.”
Anton eagerly followed him as they suited up near the exit hatch of the domes of Maratha Prime. Outside, Maratha’s temperature was already dropping toward the extreme cold of the night season. Their protective garments, which used Ildiran thermal technology, were thin and flexible, but warm.
The planet rotated slowly, like a devoted sycophant always staring at the gleaming majesty of its sun. As a result, for nearly half the year Maratha Prime basked in golden sunshine, followed by a month-long sunset, and the remainder of the year in endless night. The majority of Maratha’s population evacuated as the sun slowly went down.
After nearly two centuries of success as a resort world, Maratha was about to open an identical luxury city, Maratha Secda, in the opposite hemisphere. A construction crew of Klikiss robots was even now toiling in the brightening new daylight of the Secda job site to complete the gigantic city. As sunset fell here, dawn would be rising over there.
The two suited men stepped out into the dimming twilight. Though the deepening sky still provided plenty of illumination, Vao’sh quickly switched on all the glowstrips affixed to his shoulders.
Before Anton and Vao’sh could climb aboard a small ground vehicle that would take them to the Cannons, another Ildiran male called out,
“Wait, I wish to accompany you!” Anton recognized the lens kithman, Ilure’l, who was staying as counselor and adviser to the members of the
A N T O N C O L I C O S
53
skeleton crew. “The Cannons of Darkness are remarkable, and I always feel . . . inspired when I observe them.”
Lens kithmen had faint telepathic powers with which they could supposedly interpret the realm of the Lightsource. Considering the palpable gloom and depression setting in among the skeleton crew, Anton hoped Ilure’l could serve as both priest and psychologist to the remaining Ildirans.
“Please, join us.” Vao’sh’s voice carried an edge of fear at going too far from the others. “Please.”
Anton volunteered to drive the simple vehicle out toward the shadowy horizon. “Should we ask Mhas’k and Syl’k if they’d like to come? They might want to get out of their agricultural domes.”
The lens kithman looked quickly at him. “They have work to do.”
Behind them, the gemmed domes of Prime glowed bright, a scream of photons against the nightfall. Three honeycombed structures sat like satellites on the outskirts, shimmering with natural greens from the well-lit plants inside.
Under searing lights, the two agricultural kithmen tended stacked crops within fertilizer troughs and hydroponics channels. Agricultural kithmen grew food; that was all they knew, all they cared about. Curious about Ildiran ways, Anton had been eager to learn more about the farmers’ way of life, their inbred
Though this world was under his personal charge, the Maratha Designate had gone back to Ildira for the funeral of his father and the ascension 52
H O R I Z O N S T O R M S
of Jora’h. Designate Avi’h had made no secret of the fact that he wouldn’t return until the sun shone again and vacationers arrived.
Anton tried to encourage his rememberer friend. “Let’s make the best of it, Vao’sh. If these Cannons of Darkness are as spectacular as I’ve heard, then we’ll have a whole new repertoire of experiences for storytelling. It happens only once each year, right?”
The old Ildiran rememberer had at first been glad to receive this assignment to maintain the spirits of the skeleton crew, but with the onset of long night, Vao’sh had his doubts. Anton planned to shoulder more of the entertainment work, by sharing Earth legends.
The fleshy lobes on the alien historian’s face flickered through a palette of emotions. Wry amusement? Resignation? Anton still couldn’t interpret all the shades of colors, the nuances of their meanings. “All right, Rememberer Anton, let us go look at the Cannons of Darkness, as you suggest.”
Anton eagerly followed him as they suited up near the exit hatch of the domes of Maratha Prime. Outside, Maratha’s temperature was already dropping toward the extreme cold of the night season. Their protective garments, which used Ildiran thermal technology, were thin and flexible, but warm.
The planet rotated slowly, like a devoted sycophant always staring at the gleaming majesty of its sun. As a result, for nearly half the year Maratha Prime basked in golden sunshine, followed by a month-long sunset, and the remainder of the year in endless night. The majority of Maratha’s population evacuated as the sun slowly went down.
After nearly two centuries of success as a resort world, Maratha was about to open an identical luxury city, Maratha Secda, in the opposite hemisphere. A construction crew of Klikiss robots was even now toiling in the brightening new daylight of the Secda job site to complete the gigantic city. As sunset fell here, dawn would be rising over there.
The two suited men stepped out into the dimming twilight. Though the deepening sky still provided plenty of illumination, Vao’sh quickly switched on all the glowstrips affixed to his shoulders.
Before Anton and Vao’sh could climb aboard a small ground vehicle that would take them to the Cannons, another Ildiran male called out,
“Wait, I wish to accompany you!” Anton recognized the lens kithman, Ilure’l, who was staying as counselor and adviser to the members of the
A N T O N C O L I C O S
53
skeleton crew. “The Cannons of Darkness are remarkable, and I always feel . . . inspired when I observe them.”
Lens kithmen had faint telepathic powers with which they could supposedly interpret the realm of the Lightsource. Considering the palpable gloom and depression setting in among the skeleton crew, Anton hoped Ilure’l could serve as both priest and psychologist to the remaining Ildirans.
“Please, join us.” Vao’sh’s voice carried an edge of fear at going too far from the others. “Please.”
Anton volunteered to drive the simple vehicle out toward the shadowy horizon. “Should we ask Mhas’k and Syl’k if they’d like to come? They might want to get out of their agricultural domes.”
The lens kithman looked quickly at him. “They have work to do.”
Behind them, the gemmed domes of Prime glowed bright, a scream of photons against the nightfall. Three honeycombed structures sat like satellites on the outskirts, shimmering with natural greens from the well-lit plants inside.
Under searing lights, the two agricultural kithmen tended stacked crops within fertilizer troughs and hydroponics channels. Agricultural kithmen grew food; that was all they knew, all they cared about. Curious about Ildiran ways, Anton had been eager to learn more about the farmers’ way of life, their inbred
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