All the Weyrs of Pern (43 page)

It’s a long way across, isn’t it?
Ruth remarked.

You can see across it?
Jaxom asked, squinting in the dismal gloom at the shadowy far edge.

There isn’t much to see but more of the same.

“See how those levels are situated?” F’lar said, peering down. “We could settle the engines along them.”

“Are they stable enough to hold that sort of weight?” Lessa asked.

F’lar shrugged. “I don’t know why not. Don’t you feel how much lighter we are here? The engines should weigh less, too. And look at the size of the slabs! Gigantic.”

“Like teeth. You know, this looks as if some force broke the planet’s surface as you or I would open a redfruit,” Lessa said, her voice awed.

Ruth, can you drop down to that first level of rock? Take it easy now. We want to see how stable the protrusion actually is.

“Easy now, Jaxom!” F’lar cautioned, raising one hand as if to cancel the experiment.

There was plenty of wing space, and Ruth delicately lowered himself in the thin atmosphere past the lip of the canyon and down onto the first stone sheet. He dislodged a small boulder, which continued to fall. Jaxom listened for a long moment.

Have you got all your weight on this, Ruth?
Jaxom asked.

Jaxom could feel Ruth grunting as he bent his knees and pressed downward.

It’s not going anywhere. And I don’t weigh so much here.

True.
“We should have brought some lights,” Jaxom told the others, peering along the stone protrusion. “But this shelf looks plenty long enough to hold even the
Yokohama
’s engine. D’you want me and Ruth to see how far down we can go before the canyon closes up?”

“Shards! No!” F’lar said. “What you’re doing is dangerous enough.”

“How much time has elapsed?” Lessa asked. “The dragons have only so much air in their bodies.”

“We’re only seven minutes here,” Jaxom said after glancing at the built-in suit chronometer. As a leader, he was wearing one of the original space suits, not one of those Hamian had so cleverly contrived.

“C’mon up out of there, Jaxom,” F’lar said. “If the jaws of that canyon should snap shut . . .”

Jaxom, who had been thinking the same thing, was quite willing to comply. Beating his wings much faster than he’d need to on Pern, Ruth rose from the black chasm, facing the other two dragons.

“This would be one likely site then,” F’lar said. “I’ll go up, you go down. Lessa, see what the other rim is like. How much time, Jaxom?”

“Five minutes! No more!”

Jaxom found it somewhat unnerving to fly over this aperture, knowing that it likely extended to the depths of the planet. He kept his eye open for unusual extrusions to use as landmarks, but the sides had sheared clean for almost four minutes of flight. Then, a dragon-length below the lip, he saw another long, thick sheet of pale mottled rock. He asked Ruth to mark it in his mind.

Ramoth says we must return. They have found a third place,
Ruth told Jaxom.

Then our mission is accomplished. Let’s join ’em and go back.

Ramoth says to jump back from where we are.

Are you all right?
Jaxom asked.
Are they all right?

I’m all right. They’re all right. But it would be good to get back to the
Yokohama
and breathe.

Let’s go, then.
And Jaxom thought with longing of his own for the safety of the cargo bay.

A fraction of a breath after Ruth and Jaxom arrived, the two big Benden dragons appeared. Even in the dim light of the cargo bay, Jaxom could see that their colors were grayed. Apprehensively, he looked down at Ruth, but no fading was visible. Then he saw that their journey had had an elapsed time of 12:30:20 minutes.

Are you all right?
he asked, leaning forward on Ruth’s neck, aware that the white dragon’s mouth was wide open as he inhaled and exhaled, great deep breaths. Jaxom could feel him trembling.

“Jaxom? Lessa? F’lar?” Aivas’s voice sounded very loud in the helmet.

“We’re here,” Jaxom replied. “We’re all right. We’ve found three points for the engines. Well down in the chasm, wide ledges. Perfect.” He looked at the chronometer. “Twelve minutes, Aivas. Twelve. Strange place,” he added, recalling what he had seen of the lifeless surface and the jumbled, tortured terrain, with the vast canyon like a gaping wound that had killed the planet. Had anyone ever lived on it?

I am thirsty and I need a bath,
Ruth said so plaintively that Jaxom laughed.
Ramoth and Mnementh agree.

“I think we’ll just let you get your full breath back, Ramoth dear,” Lessa said, unsnapping the riding straps. “There wouldn’t be any klah up here anywhere, would there, Jaxom?” she asked, almost as plaintively as Ruth had. “I’m thirsty, cold, and I feel as if I’ve been gone from Pern for a century.”

“Water’s all we’ve got up here,” he told her. “But we’re not that far from hot klah.” He wouldn’t mind a pitcherful or two himself. His guts felt cold from his navel to his backbone.

But the water cask proved to be empty, and Jaxom cursed under his breath. He would have a hard word or two for whatever dimwit hadn’t had the consideration to refill the on-board cask.

Lessa was furious, too, but that made them quick to shed their suits and rack them carefully away. By then, all three dragons insisted that they were restored and wanted nothing more than a long drink and a longer swim.

“One thing,” Lessa said as she remounted Ramoth. “This trip was much farther away, but it didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I wonder . . .”

“We’ve enough to wonder about, Lessa,” F’lar said firmly, “and I want to get the details down as soon as possible before they fade.”

“My impressions of that sterile place won’t fade,” Lessa replied emphatically. “I could almost feel sorry for it.”

“It has been a dead planet for longer than Pern has been viable,” Aivas said.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Lessa replied.

Meer was waiting at Cove Hold, and he gave both Jaxom and Ruth such a scolding of agitated dives and fierce shrieking that Lessa and F’lar doubled up with laughter.

Ruth calmly reassured the little bronze and, ambling down toward the beach, invited him to help with the dragons’ bath.
You are not coming?
he added plaintively when he saw Jaxom heading in the direction of the Hold.

“Can’t, dear heart. Got to put down the details while they’re fresh in my mind! Be with you soon enough,” Jaxom called as he jogged up to the beach with Lessa and F’lar. Fairs of fire-lizards erupted into the air, diving for the dragons. “Not that you need us!”

The spacious living area of the Hold was empty, and calls for Robinton and Sharra went unanswered.

“I wonder where Sharra’s gone,” Jaxom said, remembering all too clearly how he had left her asleep and diverted Meer. She would be worried. Or angry! And with genuine cause, he thought, wincing.

Lessa grinned at him, understandingly. “You were with us.”

“That’ll be no excuse,” Jaxom said glumly, wondering how he was going to restore himself in Sharra’s eyes. Then he gave himself a mental shake and turned to immediate tasks.

As the Benden Weyrleaders collected drawing materials, Jaxom found a pitcher of cold fruit juice in the cooler; they all emptied the large jug while they recorded their visit. When they compared the images, there were few deviations.

“That’s done!” Lessa said, with a sigh of relief.

“You know,” Jaxom said, propping his head on one hand and grinning at the other two, “I still don’t believe we’ve been there and back!”

F’lar grinned wryly. “I don’t know what I expected—especially after F’nor’s try—but it’s incredible that something as dead as that has threatened us for so long.”

“Well, it has!” Lessa said, planting both hands on the table and pushing herself to her feet. She picked up the sketches and thrust them at Jaxom. “Put them somewhere safe until you can show Aivas. Now, I’m going to swim!”

Though he wanted a swim as badly as the others did, Jaxom detoured through the room he had shared with Sharra, hoping that she had left him a message. There was none, and he felt more dejected than ever. He shucked off his clothes, thankful that he always kept a spare change at Cove Hold, and made his way down to the lagoon.

Meer and Talla separated themselves from those scrubbing Ruth and circled his head, chittering happily. Not entirely encouraged by their response, he waded out to Ruth.

Sharra
’s
above. She wouldn’t let Meer or Talla go with her. They’d get in the way,
Ruth told him.

Jaxom slapped his forehead in dismay: she had told him, too, and he had forgotten about it, once again so immersed in his own business that her doings hadn’t quite registered in his brain. He laughed in self-deprecation. At times he
knew
he didn’t deserve a woman like Sharra, and this was one of them. How conceited he was! He missed her. Even if he couldn’t have told her about the marvelous journey he had just taken, he missed her.

I’m here,
Ruth said in subtle reproach.

Indeed you are, my dearest friend, as you always are!
And Jaxom waded out in the warm water to help the fire-lizards give his lifemate a good scrubbing.

16

W
HEN
M
IRRIM HAD
come to collect Sharra for the trip up to the
Yokohama
to begin their own project, she had found Sharra still asleep.

“Sharra? We’re to start this dissection business? Remember?” Mirrim said as Sharra groggily roused, plainly disoriented.

“You know about Lamoth and G’lanar?”

Mirrim wrinkled her nose. “I feel sorry for the dragon. Didn’t know one would die of shame. You get dressed. I’ll get you some klah.”

As Sharra quickly dressed, she hoped that Mirrim’s feelings would be shared by others. She found some reassurance in the knowledge that Mirrim would not necessarily side with Jaxom if she felt he was wrong.

“You’d better eat, too,” the green rider said, returning with the klah. “And let’s bring some food, fruit, and juice. I thought I’d faint with hunger during that last session Aivas put us through. Maybe he’s sophisticated, but my stomach’s not. It’s real primitive. It likes to be filled at regular intervals.”

Sharra smiled over the rim of her cup. That was Mirrim, talking up a storm to hide her real emotions. The death of any dragon for any reason upset all riders. Sharra just let her friend talk on. Then, with the klah stimulating her, she lent Mirrim a hand to pack provisions.

“No meatrolls!” Mirrim said with a dramatic shudder as Sharra reached into the cupboard for some. “I’ll puke if I have to eat any more. Thank goodness Master Robinton likes proper bread and sliced meats and raw vegetables.” They placed fresh fruit in the special quilted sacks that were a spin-off product from Hamian’s search for space-suit paddings, and filled thermoses with cool drinks. “All right, then, let’s lift.”

“Isn’t Brekke coming with us?” Sharra asked.

“No, F’nor’s to do something aboard the
Yokohama
today.” Mirrim grinned. “Probably the same thing Jaxom and T’gellan are doing, only I’m not to ask.”

“Is it dangerous?” Sharra spoke casually, but she knew Jaxom well enough to know that he had
not
been telling her something the previous night—a something that had fretted Meer badly enough to send the little bronze skittering back to Ruatha in fright.

“I doubt it! Riders take good care of their dragons, and the reverse is true. The dragons are all very happy with themselves. I wouldn’t let
today
worry me, Sharra,” Mirrim said sympathetically.

More bolstered by Mirrim’s breezy tone than by her words, Sharra followed her friend out to where Path awaited them, her green hide gleaming with undertones of deep blue, her eyes dazzling in a green that exactly matched her hide.

“Does she do that often?” Sharra asked, pointing to eye and hide.

Mirrim flushed and ran a hand over the short front locks escaping the tieback. “Sometimes.” Though she had a slight grin on her face, she wouldn’t meet Sharra’s eye. T’gellan was very good for Mirrim, Sharra thought.

When the two women arrived at the
Yokohama
, Mirrim left Path to amuse herself at the big window of the bridge, an occupation that would engross the green dragon for hours on end. Hefting their provisions, they made their way to the first level of the coldsleep storage facility where they, and the others Master Oldive had inducted to assist in the project, would attempt to understand the complexities of Thread. It was a project that would take far longer than any of them had estimated; it would occasionally cause them to wonder, over the next few weeks, why they had started such an investigation in the first place.

Whenever she could, Sharra cadged a ride back to Ruatha, to spend a few hours with her sons, whom she missed terribly—when she had time to miss anything. She was relieved that Jaxom seemed so involved in his own project that he apparently didn’t notice, or mind, her preoccupation. Sometimes, when she and the others found themselves working long hours, they stayed up on the
Yokohama
. Mirrim, of course, had to fly Threadfall, but the others had been released from any other duties for this important investigation.

Other times, when the team had to perform endless boring tasks, they grumbled about Aivas’s obsession with the biology of the Thread organism, especially as once the primary task of shifting the Red Star’s orbit was accomplished, Thread would be relegated to a myth with which to threaten disobedient children. But Aivas repeatedly insisted on the necessity of this research: how vital it was to
understand
the organism. They were all, including Oldive, so accustomed to obeying an Aivas directive that they complied.

Caselon, who now sported journeyman’s knots as well as a unique pattern of tiny white scars on his tanned face, did comment about the irony of their grabbing a few hours’ sleep in the very capsules that had brought their ancestors to Pern.

Skillfully guided by Aivas, they had sufficient successes to keep a high level of enthusiasm and interest, and to ignore discomforts. As Aivas often reminded them, the routines they were learning in dissecting the very complex organism that had menaced their world for centuries could be applied to other organisms. So the discipline was an end in itself.

Aivas did insist that they bring one ovoid up to “normal” temperatures in an airlock on the far side of the
Yokohama
, away from the sections that were normally being used. With no friction to destroy the tough outer layer, the ovoid remained inert.

“The friction, then,” Aivas observed, “is essential to free the organism.”

“Let’s not free it,” Caselon suggested drolly.

“It is as well,” Master Oldive remarked thoughtfully, “to know that it is helpless.”

“At our mercy,” Sharra added, grinning.

“The observation will be continued,” Aivas said.

“Do let us know if its condition changes,” Sharra said.

Besides Caselon, Sharra, Mirrim, and Oldive, Brekke had volunteered and brought Tumara, the unsuccessful queen candidate, for the girl did not seem to mind monotonous tasks as much as others did. Two more healers, Sefal and Durack, and Manotti, a Smithcraft journeyman, completed their staff. There were times when they could have used twice the number, but all had been trained by Aivas and soon worked well together, smoothly and efficiently and in good spirits.

Initially they had the barest essentials for the task at hand. In the laboratory there were two cubicles. On the top of the work benches were disks that lit up with various kinds of light; Sefal, a dour but diligent sort, was fascinated by the effects obtainable during initial demonstrations. Most important for their purpose was the binocular stereo microscope that they all had to learn to use. The x and y dimensions caused no problem, but to learn to use the z proved to be far more difficult. To demonstrate, Aivas had Sharra take a hair from her head and tie knots in it under the microscope—not as easy as it sounded, as each of them learned when they tried it.

To one side of the microscope was a flush drawer with a sliding cover, in which some oddly truncated glass instruments were found. These, Aivas told them, they had to learn to duplicate in order to do the dissection work required.

Two more workbenches and stools were found and dragged into the two cubicles, although that limited what free space there was.

While Sharra was tying knots in her hair using the binocular microscope, Aivas had Sefal and Manotti take apart one of the two refrigerators to obtain the parts necessary to bring the third one down to
­
150 degrees, the temperature they would need to work on the Thread organism. They might have to reduce its temperature to that of the Oort Cloud from whence it came, ­270c or 3° absolute—but for the present, they could be content with maintaining the Thread’s temperature in Pern orbit.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Manotti complained at one point as he gutted the dispensable refrigerator unit.

“That is not at issue,” Aivas reassured him. “You need only follow instructions, for there isn’t time to teach you cryogenics or refrigeration engineering. Do as you are told.”

“I will, I will.” Manotti said, grimacing as he very carefully removed a coil of tubing from the back of the first refrigerator. “Now where does this go?”

Aivas explained. When the transfer was completed and the machinery purred into activity, Manotti gave a whoop of triumph. Next, several of the cold capsules were altered to provide additional three-degree-absolute temperature storage for their specimens. For they needed many more than the original Thread ovoid that Farli had caught. The ovoids, as they shortly learned, came in a variety of sizes and in many conditions and, surprisingly, temperatures.

“You’d think one would be enough,” Mirrim muttered to Sharra.

“Humans are not duplicates of each other,” Aivas replied, though she had not intended to be overheard. She rolled her eyes at Sharra. “Patently the Thread organisms will also exhibit anomalies—ordinary deviations and quite likely mutations. They are as much a life-form as humans are, and they are in a very stressful environment so near Rukbat.”

“That puts us neatly in our place,” Oldive said with a grin.

Over the next few days, each team member had to learn to cope with the binocular microscope. Tying knots in a strand of hair gave way to carving flowers from splinters of wood and making paper flowers one millimeter across. Sharra proved the deftest of all, with Brekke and Mirrim not far behind her.

Caselon and Manotti, aided by Sefal and Durack, assembled a microforge with a flame two millimeters long, in which they heated the special glass Aivas had had Master Morilton mix, a glass with such a high lead content that even the amenable Morilton had protested. After Aivas told him that he could make knives with the high-lead mix sharp enough to cut bread, Morilton was at least curious enough to wish to experiment. So Aivas and Caselon got the unusual material.

Working carefully, Caselon pulled glass in the tiny flame, then took the resultant tube down to the 3° absolute in which the finished product would be used. When the first rod shattered, he reflexively jumped back despite the fact that he wore protective face and body shields. He glanced around sheepishly.

“A good habit to acquire, Caselon,” Aivas remarked approvingly. “Try again.”

When the fourth rod had shattered, Caselon was disgusted.

“The glass may not have been blended well enough, Caselon. Master Morilton supplied you with several different mixes. Use the one with the highest lead content. The instruments must be flexible, bending rather than shattering,” Aivas said, projecting such a reassurance of eventual success that Caselon took heart.

The fifth attempt bent slightly in the extreme cold but it did not shatter or crack.

“Now, using that mix, make more rods, which you will then fashion into knobs, spikes, and blades. Each of you will work your own tools, with Caselon as your instructor. To further dissect Thread, you will need what are ordinary tools, hacksaw, chisel, mallet, scalpel, but in miniature. Carborundum stone will sharpen edges.”

Caselon’s set was much admired by the others, though Mirrim thought them stubby inelegant implements. Consequently, when she, on her competitive mettle, made her set longer, she discovered that the flexibility of the length proved a disadvantage when the instruments were used.

“There is so much to do before we
do
anything,” she complained. “We’ve wasted weeks on all this!”

“And you will spend weeks on the next procedures, Mirrim,” Aivas said in a tone that chided her for impatience. “You have worked with great diligence and achieved feats of expertise that two Turns ago you would not have been capable of performing. Do not despair. You are about to embark on the truly interesting phase.”

“What?” Mirrim asked bluntly.

“Dissecting Thread.”

“But haven’t we?” Sharra exclaimed, pointing to the cold capsule where the sectioned Threads were housed.

“You have cut the ovoids apart, but you have not truly examined them as minutely as you shortly will. Now, let us see if the waldoes still operate.”

Caselon had been fascinated by these devices, which would allow them to work in a chamber maintained at the very low temperatures at which the Thread specimens were kept. He volunteered to be first, but Aivas chose Sharra, as she had already done more microscopic work than the journeyman. The apparatus was powered up, the specimen and the glass tools placed inside the waldo chamber, and the binocular microscope swung into position.

Resolutely, Sharra put her hands into the gloves and gave a little shudder.

“Cold!” she said, and attempted to move her fingers. “I thought you said these waldoes would follow my movements.”

“Meters show that current is being taken into the mechanism,” Caselon said, looking at the dials. “Here, let me.”

Sharra withdrew her hands, but Caselon had no more luck than she.

“All right, Aivas,” she said. “What do we do now?”

There was one of the brief but noticeable pauses they had all come to expect whenever Aivas conducted an internal search.

“The mechanism has been unused for twenty-five hundred years. It is not unreasonable to assume that maintenance might be required. A lubrication of the finger joints with silicone fluid may restore mobility.”

“Silicone fluid?” Caselon asked.

Manotti raised his hand. “I know what he means. Aivas, is there a smith journeyman or master available?”

“I can send Tolly down for it,” Mirrim suggested.

Manotti gave her a sardonic look. “He’ll have a day’s wait.”

She groaned. “Then I’m going down,” she said. “I feel the need of a swim and fresh food and some time with my mate.”

“If we really are out of action until the silicone fluid is prepared, I ought to take the day off, too,” Sharra said, thinking it had been an age since she’d had any time with her sons, or Jaxom.

Caselon grinned. “I’ll stay here and manufacture some more tools. If I go down, someone’s surely going to find work for me.”

Aivas gracefully gave permission for the departures, but to those who remained, he immediately assigned other tasks.

Jaxom was as absorbed in his current tasks as Sharra was in hers, but these days he managed to spend more time at Ruatha, with the two boys, than she was able to. When she was home, he would listen to her descriptions of her projects—the failures and small successes—and encourage her.