All The Weyrs of Pern Read online

  Knowing that his fellow students were observing him made him hope devoutly that he didn't look as ridiculous as he felt. Sharra had told him repeatedly that he had not looked at all foolish coping with weightlessness the day before. He should relax in satisfaction that both he and Piemur had handled themselves most creditably. She only wished that she could somehow have seen the view of Pern which had so transfixed them.

  "I've never seen that particular look on Piemur's face before. Jancis was impressed."

  "So how did I look?"

  "Dumbstruck, just like Piemur," she replied, giving him a mischievous grin. "About the same way you looked when you saw Jarrol for the first time."

  At least today, Jaxom knew he had some control over his movements-as long as he kept his feet on the deck. He took the first step forward, wrenching the heavy boot's grip off the floor and stamping it down in front of him. Ruth had landed in the same spot as before, right by the lift door. Jaxom had only to duck under the dragon's neck to reach the control panel, which Aivas had assured him was in working order.

  I'll move out of your way, Ruth said obligingly. Picking up his hind legs, he flipped over and over backward, coasting toward the window. It's better than the view from the Star Stones on Benden or the fireheights at Ruatha. By the time Jaxom had pressed one thick-gloved finger on the pressure panel, Ruth had his nose against the plasglas and was staring out into space.

  Jaxom still could not dispel the sense of being an intruder which he had felt keenly the day before, walking where his ancestors had, manipulating switches, toggles, and keyboards just as they had once done. He had told himself that that was partly because of the gruesome errand he and Piemur had been on, retrieving Sallah Telgar. He had hoped the feeling would have altered now that he was here on another errand, but it had not.

  Though he and Piemur had, miraculously, been able to log into their respective consoles and complete their tasks, Aivas had not been able to discover why the cargo-bay doors remained open. Today, after a brisk tutorial session from Aivas, Jaxom's assignment was to descend to the Cargo level and attempt to use the control console or the manual override there.

  "It is to be hoped that one of those two systems is operational," Aivas said.

  "Why?"

  "Otherwise, you would have to venture outside the ship to discover what was keeping the doors from closing."

  "Oh!" Jaxom had seen enough footage of Aivas's training tapes to wonder if he would have the nerve to space walk.

  The lift opened and he stepped in. The door shut. Once again consulting the diagram in his hand-though he had memorized it-he punched the button marked CB for cargo bay before he noticed how many levels the lift served. Although Aivas had assured him that the solar panels of the Yokohama contained sufficient power to operate the bridge lift, he had a nervous moment before the long-unused mechanism rumbled into action.

  "The lift is operational," Jaxom told Aivas in what he hoped

  was a casual tone. "I'm descending." He had also been instructed to keep up a running commentary. Jaxom was not by nature garrulous; it seemed inane to keep reporting simple actions, even if they were not taking place under normal conditions. Aivas had merely repeated that this was normal procedure for a single operative in what was to be considered a hostile environment.

  "Proceed," Aivas said.

  The descent seemed to take both a long time and no time at all. A warning note sounded, and a red sign-DANGER: VACUUM!-appeared on the door of the lift.

  "What do I do now, Aivas?"

  "Press the PUMP DOWN button on the right of the sign and wait for the danger lights to go out."

  Jaxom did as he was instructed. He noticed that his suit puffed out and seemed slightly less wieldy. He was just growing accustomed to that alteration when there was a melodious ding and the door slid silently aside-and Jaxom looked out at a vast blackness that framed an even blacker area that was punctuated by star lights. There was no reassuring sight of sunlit Pern below him. He didn't move a muscle.

  Don't be nervous. I d come after you if you fell out, Ruth said encouragingly.

  "I've reached the cargo bay," Jaxom said belatedly. "There's insufficient light." And that, Jaxom said to himself, must be the single most stupid understatement he had ever made!

  "Feel to the left of the door. There will be a panel." Aivas's voice in Jaxom's ear was steady and reassuring, and he let out his breath, only just realizing that he had been holding it in. "Wave your hand across the panel, and emergency lights will come on."

  We hope, Jaxom said to himself. Moving with extreme care, he obeyed and was unutterably relieved to see a line of lights come up all around the immense cargo bay. The effect did heighten the blackness of space, but he felt better with the partial illumination. "Yes, I now have light." It's bigger even than Fort's Hatching Ground, he told Ruth, looking about in awe.

  "There is a handrail all around the inside wall of the cargo bay," Aivas went on conversationally. "To your left you will see a bank of lights, and the console should be visible under them."

  "It is."

  "It will be faster to go hand over hand, Jaxom," Aivas went on, "and quite safe. Otherwise you would exhaust yourself needlessly."

  Jaxom wondered if Aivas knew just how scared he was. But how could he? So Jaxom took a deep breath and, lifting his left foot, reached out and caught hold of the handrail. It was round and firm in his grip and amazingly reassuring for a mere thin rail of metal. "I've got it. I'm proceeding as directed."

  Holding very tightly with both hands, he kicked off his right foot, balanced the reaction against the solid rail, and began to move hand over hand, hauling his weightless body after him.

  "How did my ancestors manage to load ships working like this?" he asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

  "Your ancestors worked in half gravity in this area during loading, but the rest of the ship was on normal gravity."

  "They could do that? Amazing," Jaxom replied dutifully. He was nearly halfway to the console. The curve of the bay now hid the unnerving sight of star-studded space. He wanted to increase his pace but sternly held himself to a rhythm that would prevent sudden, unexpected reactions. He could feel the sweat on his forehead, and then the little suction fan in his helmet turned on and the moisture was evacuated. That phenomenon occupied his mind until he was actually at the lighted console.

  He activated it, and a range of red and orange lights flickered into being. Jaxom experienced a slight shock and then began reading the dials. Some of the red lights were perfectly in order, indicating, as they were meant to, that the cargo-bay doors were open. He sighed in relief and applied his lessons to deciphering the rest. When he was sure of what sequence to use, he entered the appropriate code. The orange light began to flicker. The legend above it said: RTC. He reported that to Aivas.

  "That explains why the cargo-bay doors remained open. They were on a remote time control, which must have malfunctioned. The simplest method now is to use the manual release, Jaxom," Aivas told him. "It is found under the terminal. Open the glass lid and pull."

  Grabbing the handle of the manual release, Jaxom gave a yank. When nothing happened, he gave a second, more forceful yank. Fortunately he was still holding on to the handle, for the force of the yank sent him dangling above the deck, hanging on by one outstretched arm. A strange gargling noise echoed in his ears.

  "What has happened, Jaxom?" Aivas asked, his voice as calm as ever.

  Jaxom's momentary panic subsided. In chagrin, he explained.

  "Pull yourself toward the deck by exerting a downward pressure on the handle, and very slowly tuck your feet forward," Aivas instructed.

  Jaxom obeyed and was relieved to feel his soles restored to a firm contact with the deck. Engrossed in recovering from his hasty action, he did not at first notice the alteration in the light on the deck. The motion caught his peripheral vision to the right; he turned his head, remembering to move slowly, and saw the great cargo-bay doors folding s
lowly inward, wrapping him in more complete safety.

  The door lights on the panel turned from red to green, and suddenly the aggravating orange light winked out.

  "Operation completed," Jaxom said, wanting to shout in relief.

  "That is enough for today. Retrace your steps and return to base."

  Later that afternoon, when Robinton, Lytol, and D'ram arrived for a private meeting, Aivas had further interesting disclosures to make.

  "Your wandering planet is flagrantly erratic," he told them. "There has been time to study most of the Records presented to this facility. Even the most illegible ones have been deciphered, using available restoration techniques. The Red Star, as it is inaccurately called, has an aberrant course and does not cross Pern's path every two hundred and fifty years. The orbit varies by almost ten years in four Passes-three were two hundred fifty-eight, and one was two hundred forty. Thread Passes alter from forty-six years in the Second Pass to fifty-two in the Fifth and forty-eight in the Seventh. The two intervals of four hundred years each appear to suggest that the planet did not, in fact, orbit as far as the Oort Cloud, or was, in some inexplicable fashion, diverted from its usual orbit. The former theory is more acceptable than the latter. Another possibility"-and the resonant tone indicated that this was most unlikely-"is that it passed through attenuated portions of this cometary reservoir. Of more importance, and based on calculations from the Yokohama's bridge, this Pass will be short by three years."

  "Now that is very good news indeed," D'ram said. "But I don't understand how such inaccuracies could have slipped into the Records."

  "That is not at issue," Aivas replied. "Though the method of dating on this planet promotes error."

  "Then that would account for the need to position the Eye Rocks, wouldn't it?" Lytol asked. "Because no matter if dating was faulty, the Weyrs would always know exactly when a Pass was imminent."

  "An ingenious method of ascertaining the correct position of a planet, though by no means original," Aivas replied.

  "Yes, yes," Lytol said hastily. "You told me about Stonehenge and the Triangles of Eridani. Do the inaccuracies have any other importance?"

  "That information is still being correlated and updated. Optimistically, it augurs well for the success of the Plan."

  "And we can reassure Holds and Halls on that account?" Robinton asked, his voice buoyant with hope.

  "You can indeed."

  "This briefing, then, is to decide what information can be made public."

  "Yes."

  "What else can we tell them?"

  "As much as you know."

  Robinton chuckled. "Which is very little."

  "But significant," Aivas replied. "The two expeditions to the Yokohama have been extremely successful. You may also report that the next exercise will extend to the four green riders. It is vital for them to make bridge transfers and continue the research that Jaxom and Piemur initiated. Each will have an objective during his time on board."

  "Why did Jaxom have to close the cargo-bay doors today? Especially when you said that that area will not be used for some time," D'ram asked, curious.

  "It is necessary for someone to get practice in working in free-fall and to become accustomed to using the space suit. Jaxom is the most adept computer operator, and Ruth is the most courageous of the dragons."

  Robinton noticed that Lytol perceptibly preened himself on hearing such praise of his ward.

  "Does the fact that he is also a Lord Holder and can report on his expedition come into consideration?" Robinton asked, amused.

  "That did figure in the choice; but competence, and being a dragonrider, were more important."

  Robinton chuckled. "So who goes next?"

  "Now that Ruth has led the way, the green dragons will feel compelled to follow where the littlest one of them has gone before. They will be sent in pairs: Mirrim and Path, G'rannat and Sulath. They have complementary temperaments and skills."

  Robinton chuckled. "You are indeed well versed in manipulating people."

  "It is not manipulation, Master Robinton. It is understanding the basic personalities of those who are being trained."

  "The cargo area is large enough for bronze dragons to transfer," D'ram suggested.

  "Not until there is also sufficient air for them to breathe. They will play a major role in future steps, D'ram," Aivas said. "But the next step will be to reestablish oxygen-producing algae in the hydroponics area to purify the air of the few usable areas on the Yokohama. The telescope will have to be adjusted periodically. There is one probe left that may or may not be operational. It could be useful. Failing that, it would be helpful if perhaps a bronze dragon and his rider could venture to obtain samples from the Oort debris."

  "What?" The exclamation came in a chorus from all three startled men.

  "A sample of pre-Fall Thread was never obtained by the colonists, though several attempts were made. An analysis," Aivas insisted, raising its voice over renewed protests from the three custodians, "would be carried out in the one remaining operational laboratory on the Yokohama in the cold-sleep facility. The rewards of a proper scientific analysis of the Thread material far outweigh any risk. From what I have seen of the abilities and intelligence of the bronze dragons and their riders, the risk would be minimal-once, of course, they have the exact directions for such a flight, and when protective gear is available for the rider."

  The three regarded the screen with varying degrees of stunned amazement.

  "Thread in its nodular form is not dangerous," Aivas continued, as if oblivious to the effect of that statement on the custodians. "It is only when it finds a hospitable environment that it alters. For the purpose of analysis, it can be kept safely contained in one of the sleep capsules. Seven of the most promising biology students are already sufficiently trained to handle such investigations, Lady Sharra being the best of them. Much equipment for the investigation of frozen human and animal tissue is still up there. Even an electron microscope is in place in the cryogenic laboratory-making it an ideal site for our purpose."

  Aivas sounded perfectly reasonable, his suggestions as logical and forthright as always, but Robinton instinctively balked at the mere notion of such an undertaking. He didn't dare glance at D'ram, or Lytol.

  "To destroy a menace, one must perceive it as a whole and in its separate manifestations," Aivas continued.

  "How can we possibly destroy Thread, if what you have told us about this Oort Cloud that surrounds our system is true?" the Harper asked.

  "What you have been told is fact."

  "Fact is not the only truth," Lytol reminded them all.

  "Now, let's not deviate from the subject at hand," Robinton said, eyeing Lytol sternly. The former dragonrider and Aivas could indulge in semantics and philosophy on their own time.

  "One alters the facts," Aivas went on as if Lytol had not interrupted. "That is the plan."

  "I wish," Robinton said, leaning forward earnestly, "that you would tell us the whole of this plan of yours."

  "Master Robinton, to use an analogy, you would not expect a new student to read a score of music perfectly on his first try, would you?" When Robinton agreed, Aivas continued. "Nor would you expect that same student, no matter how talented, to be able to perform to a high level of competence, playing intricate passages, on an unfamiliar instrument, would you?"

  "I take the analogy," Robinton said, raising both hands in surrender.

  "Then be reassured by the successes already achieved: the lessons learned and understood. Progress toward the high level that must be achieved is being made, but it would be harmful to overwhelm your valiant people before they are properly prepared by education and experience."

  "You are right, completely right, Aivas," Robinton agreed, shaking his head at the folly of his impetuous demand.

  "How critical to Pern, and to this project, is this Lord Holders Convocation, Master Robinton?" Aivas asked.

  Robinton gave a wry smile. "That's the debatabl
e point. But when all the Lord Holders assemble, minor irritations have a habit of flaring up into roaring debates. We-Sebell, Lytol, D'ram, and I-have good reason to believe that Landing, and this project, may be called to question by some of the dissatisfied and conservative elements. We'll be better able to gauge reactions after Sallah Telgar's interment tomorrow."

  "Will many attend that ceremony?"

  Robinton's grin turned broad and slightly malicious. "Anybody who is anybody on Pern will be there! Master Shonagar has been relentlessly rehearsing apprentices and journeymen; Domick has been killing himself to produce suitable music, including a splendid fanfare of trumpets. Dragons will fill the sky to do her honor." Robinton felt an unexpected closure of his throat at the thought of the tributes arranged for this fabled ancestress. "Perschar, among others, will be on hand to illustrate."

  "Such scenes would be an unusual addition to the archives of present-day Pern," Aivas remarked.

  "You shall have them, of course," Robinton promised earnestly.

  "As well as your individual verbal accounts of the proceedings."

  "All of us?" D'ram asked surprised.

  "Different perspectives often supply the full dimensions of an event."

  By the next evening, Robinton was not certain if the full dimensions of Sallah Telgar's interment would ever be properly recorded. It had been quite a day, and for once he admitted that he was very, very tired.

  Larad and his lady had organized a splendid occasion, with master instrumentalists, under the direction of Domick himself, and singers from all over the continent to sing the Ballad of Sallah Telgar. The large Telgar Gather pits had been utilized to feed those who had begun arriving the day before. Most had thoughtfully brought their own rations, but Telgar stinted no one, and anyone of consequence was accommodated in the portions of the great Hold that had not been tenanted since the last plague. Robinton rather thought that every holder in Telgar had been drafted to clean; Lady Jissamy was by no means lax in her duties, even the farthest corner of her domain enduring inspection once every Tam, but the place sparkled and shone as never before.