All the Weyrs of Pern (37 page)

When a laughing Lessa repeated Ramoth’s remark, Robinton announced that he was more than willing to scrub a queen. Then D’ram said that there were far too many fire-lizards helping Lessa, whereas Robinton had been flown to the
Yokohama
by Tiroth and so the Harper ought, out of courtesy, to wash the bronze. In the end, all the apprentices and journeyfolk working at Cove Hold, save Lytol, waded into the waters and helped bathe the five dragons.

After a very pleasant evening meal spent in most congenial company, Jaxom, Sharra, and Oldive reluctantly departed for Ruatha. Jaxom was growing as accustomed to these long days as Sharra. Making use of the extra hours allowed him to acquit his Hold responsibilities while continuing to indulge himself in the Aivas schedule. While Sharra and Oldive dealt with the patients in the Hold infirmary, he located Brand and oversaw the enlargement of the beasthold at Riverside, and checked over the improvements to two more minor hold properties.

Having put in a twenty-hour day, he was not best pleased then to be awakened in the black of the night by an urgent message from F’lessan, relayed to him by Ruth.

Golanth says that the roof of Honshu caved in and something very curious, and quite possibly very important, has been discovered in a secret room,
Ruth said, faithfully repeating what he had been told.
Golanth has informed Lessa, F’lar, K’van, and T’gellan. Messages have also been sent to Master Fandarel, and for Master Robinton, to relay to Aivas.

Jaxom did not move for a long moment, though his mind actively considered the information. He resented being roused from much-needed rest and yearned to go back to sleep.

Golanth does not ever bother us unnecessarily,
Ruth added almost contritely.

I know that!
Jaxom replied wearily.
Any indication of Aivas’s response to this message?

If you are not in Aivas’s presence, I can’t hear what he says.
Ruth was silent for a long moment while Jaxom argued with himself about leaving the warm bed and his sleeping wife and making an adequate response to this new summons.

Tiroth is bringing all three from Cove Hold with him,
the white dragon went on at last.
He says that Lytol believes this could be very important. Aivas was insistent that these sacks be investigated as soon as possible. Ramoth and Mnementh will come. Everyone who was asked is coming.

Stifling a groan, Jaxom eased himself out of bed, careful not to disturb Sharra. She needed the sleep as much as he did. Maybe this wouldn’t take long and he could get back before she discovered him gone again. She and Oldive were keen to return to the
Yokohama
with a diamond cutter. He would hate to disappoint them because he had been called elsewhere.

He dressed, putting on light clothing under his riding gear in anticipation of the warmer weather in Honshu. He was pleased that, sleepy as he was, he could remember such details. But he did not, as he frequently did, check the riding harness that he always left openly on the peg in Ruth’s weyr. With the deftness of long practice, he rigged his covert gear on Ruth and, throwing open the wide doors to the weyr, followed the white dragon out to the courtyard to mount. The watchdragon, the watch-wher, and some of the Hold’s resident fire-lizards silently observed their departure, bright eyes gleaming blue or green spheres in the night.

What a time to send for folk, Jaxom thought as Ruth leaped skyward.

What time is it in Honshu?
Ruth asked.

“Sunup, probably!” Jaxom replied testily, envisioning the facade of Honshu Hold that F’lessan had vividly described to him.

Between,
Jaxom shivered despite his fur-lined riding jacket. Two breaths later they were hoving above a sea of mist, with dawn just breaking. Around them were other dragons, clinging to pinnacles that rose above the obscuring vapor. Ruth descended to the nearest vacant spire and nodded greetings to the other dragons.

“And where is Honshu?” Jaxom asked.

Ramoth says it’s obscured in the river fog to our right. I knew where I was going. It just isn’t visible yet,
Ruth replied.
Today begins beautifully, doesn’t it?
he added unexpectedly, gazing eastward, where the sky was a lighter blue.

Grudgingly, Jaxom agreed as he contemplated the view. To his left, both moons were visible, half full, hanging in a sky of an unusual clear and cloudless blue as night retreated westward—where he should still be in his bed, he thought ruefully. He suppressed the urge to lean forward in his saddle, rest his head on Ruth’s neck, and go back to sleep until the mist cleared. But the longer he looked on a day so beautifully beginning—he hadn’t known that Ruth could be so lyrical—he found it increasingly difficult to look away.

More dragons arrived, hovering in surprise to discover their landing site so totally obscured and eventually settling wherever they could.

Golanth apologizes,
Ruth informed Jaxom.
The mist rolled up from the river just as day broke. He says that once the sun is up, this will clear away. He says he will go stand near the place where the roof collapsed.
The white dragon turned his head in the appropriate direction, and Jaxom spotted Golanth’s bronze shape rising out of the mist to settle on a still invisible surface.
Golanth says that there is hot klah and porridge waiting and so few of us have seen Honshu that we have a nice surprise coming. He says there is very good hunting in the valley—when it’s visible.

Ruth’s qualifier touched Jaxom’s sense of humor, and he chuckled himself out of irritability just as the sun rose, shooting bright, hot rays across the mist. Then a breeze picked up energy and very shortly the mist cleared away, revealing at last Honshu’s cliff face and Golanth, perched on the heights.

Golanth says for us to land you on the upper level by the hold’s main door. There should be enough room for all. More of the roof might collapse, and on the lower level, the beasthold hasn’t been completely cleaned out yet. F’lessan doesn’t want anyone entering that way.

Almost as one, the waiting dragons lofted themselves. Perhaps it was the downdraft of great wings wafting away the last tendrils of mist, but by the time the dragons were ready to land, the vapor had cleared right up to the second tier of window slits.

F’lessan and the other weyrfolk who were making Honshu livable were waiting in the wide doorway, cheering the arrivals.

“Thanks for coming so promptly,” F’lessan said, grinning broadly. “I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Sorry to get you out of your bed, Jaxom, because I know you had a long day, but you’d hate me to leave you out of this.” The young bronze rider threw a companionable arm about Jaxom’s shoulders, his expression so uncharacteristically anxious that Jaxom felt obliged to reassure him.

“It’s thoughtful of you to have food and klah laid on, F’lessan,” Lessa said as she crossed the entrance hall, “but I’d rather see your discovery first.”

F’lessan pointed to plastic sacks on the long table in the main room. “You can see the secret room, too, if you don’t mind a long climb up winding stairs.”

Everyone but Jaxom hurried to the table. He stood on the threshold, staring up at the amazing murals, their colors as brilliant as the day they had been first applied. Vaguely he recalled Lytol and Robinton talking about the decorations at Honshu, but he had not expected anything nearly so magnificent.

“Rather spectacular, isn’t it?” F’lessan asked, turning back to his old friend. He spent a long moment admiring it, too. “The place is not really big enough for a Weyr, though Golanth says that there’re plenty of good ledges to lie on. And good eating.”

“Southern Weyr had less than this originally,” Jaxom reminded him.

“True. But it’s arranged as a hold. I just don’t want anyone lording it in here,” F’lessan said with unexpected fervor. “People know they can come and go freely in a Weyr. C’mon, you’ll want to see the stuff I found. And now that I’ve got you here at last, you’re going to see the whole place. It is remarkably well preserved and full of the most fascinating tools and equipment. All the smiths are drooling over them.”

“I’ve had the complete inventory from Jancis,” Jaxom said with a wry grin.

F’lessan’s find was most unusual: liquid carefully stored in plastic bags. Each had been tied shut around the neck by rigid strips that ended in wide tabs, which were inscribed with strokes in odd patterns, the like of which neither Robinton nor Lytol had seen in all of Aivas’s records.

“I opened one,” F’lessan said, pointing to the sack sitting in the bowl, its mouth carefully peeled back so that its contents were accessible. “I thought at first it had to be water, but it’s not. It’s got an odd sheen to it, and anyway, water would long since have evaporated, I think. It smells funny. I didn’t taste it.”

Lytol and Fandarel nearly bumped heads as both leaned over to sniff the liquid. Fandarel dipped in a finger and smelled it, grimacing.

“Definitely not drinkable.”

“We should take this sack to Aivas for examination,” Lytol said. “Is this all there were?”

“No,” F’lessan replied blithely. “Thirty-four more, plus the six here. They don’t all contain the same amount of whatever it is. There were a few empty sacks in the attic so some leakage occurred. Or maybe tunnel snakes chewed their way through. They’ll eat anything.”

“You said something about a stairway?” Lessa asked.

“Well, the steps weren’t completely cut. Just a toehold up the final curve. We didn’t bother to explore that level—until Benmeth crashed through.”

“You didn’t say whether she hurt herself or not,” Lessa said almost accusingly.

F’lessan grinned, rarely affected by his mother’s moods. “Scraped her right hind leg, but J’lono’s slathered numbweed all over her. She’s down in the workroom.”

“Show me where the stairs are, F’lessan,” F’lar said, and when the young bronze rider had indicated the doorway, the Benden Weyrleader led the way, followed closely by Fandarel, Lytol, K’van, and T’gellan.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Lessa said, grabbing Robinton by the arm. “Free-fall’s all right but stairs are not, Robinton. And you won’t have eaten yet if I know you.”

Not fancying a long hike, Jaxom added his persuasions to Lessa’s, and F’lessan insisted that Robinton would insult the weyrfolk if he didn’t sit down right that moment and enjoy Honshu’s hospitality.

“It is fuel,” Aivas said, and Robinton could have sworn he heard jubilation in his voice. “Fuel!”

“Yes, but is it any good after so many centuries?” Fandarel asked.

Jaxom had a brilliant vision of the three shuttles lifting off the ship meadow, but canceled it almost immediately as a total impossibility. Those ships would never fly again. Pern hadn’t the technology necessary to repair them properly.

“The fuel does not deteriorate with age, nor does the sample you brought appear to have suffered any contamination. Since this discovery is in Honshu, Kenjo Fusaiyuki’s Stakehold, it is logical to assume that this is part of the fuel he had diverted for his personal use. Mention was made of this cache in Captain Keroon’s records; a search for the fuel cache was conducted at Honshu, but it was never found.”

“But the sled was so well preserved, couldn’t we—” Fandarel began excitedly.

“The sled used power packs, not fuel. The forty sacks that have been recovered will be put to excellent use,” Aivas said.

“Where? Why? In what?” Jaxom demanded. “I thought you said the
Yokohama
used matter/antimatter engines.”

“For interstellar travel only,” Aivas explained. “This fuel was used for propulsion in-system.”

“The shuttles in the field?” Piemur asked, his face flushed with anticipation. And Jaxom realized that he was not the only one who had had dazzling visions.

“Even were you technologically more advanced, they have deteriorated past repair,” Aivas said. “This unexpected dividend will be put to very good use when the alternatives have been thoroughly reviewed.”

Jaxom and Piemur exchanged expressions of disgust.

“Let me guess, Aivas,” Jaxom said. “We could put all the fuel in the
Yokohama
’s tanks, or split it up between all three ships. There’d be enough to give us half-gray, some maneuverability—that is, if we wanted to go anywhere in those ships . . .” He finished on a querying note.

“There is insufficient fuel to reach the Oort Cloud,” Aivas said. “Or to follow the direction of the Thread stream and use the destruct capability of the shields to reduce the density of the ovoids.”

Trying not to let his frustration show, Jaxom made himself grin at Piemur. “Well, he thought of one course that I didn’t.”

“Who are we to outguess Aivas?” Piemur asked, but Jaxom noted the suppressed anger in the harper’s eyes.

“One of these days . . .” Jaxom said just loud enough for Piemur to hear, and Piemur nodded.

“But, Aivas, since there is this sample,” Fandarel said urgently, “can you not analyze its composition so that we can duplicate it? Surely we can make enough fuel to take at least one ship to the Oort Cloud.”

“For what reason?”

“Why, to blow up the Oort Cloud! Destroy the Thread organism that is generated there!”

Another of Aivas’s curious silences ensued, and then suddenly the Rukbat system came up on the screen, the sun dwarfing its satellites. Abruptly the picture altered, the brilliant sun diminishing to a pinpoint of light, the planets reducing out of visibility on the new scale, and the swirling nebulosity of the Oort Cloud appearing to flow across the screen, blotting out even the distant Rukbat. As in so many previous demonstrations, a red line began to describe the orbit of the Red Star, moving through the Oort Cloud and back into the system, swinging around the primary, inside Pern’s conventional path.

“Aivas certainly knows how to cut us down to size,” Piemur murmured.

“Oh!” Fandarel said, resigned. “It is indeed difficult to appreciate the massive scale of the Cloud and the insignificance of our tiny world.”

“So what
do
we destroy to be rid of Thread?” F’lar asked.