All the Weyrs of Pern (52 page)

Everyone in the laboratory on the
Yokohama
, or in the schoolrooms at Landing, worked long, hard, tedious hours, suffering eyestrain, headache, and back cramps.

Aivas consoled them. “Thread is a very disorganized life-form, not even as organized as the indigenous bacteria you were isolating in biological studies. You cannot be expected to understand reproduction of such a life-form.”

“We don’t have time!” Mirrim said, speaking through clenched teeth. It was her offering that Aivas had just rejected. Then she brightened. “Of course, we could keep some around to study and learn from, couldn’t we?” She saw the horror and disgust of some of her colleagues. “No, I guess we couldn’t. Ah, well, back to the microscope. My ninety-eighth batch of trials today. Maybe we luck out at a hundred!”

“Twenty-two more days!” Oldive said with a massive sigh as he, too, turned back to his station.

Afterward, when Lytol wrote up the history of the Aivas years, he would remember the results, not the frenzy that accompanied them, though he gave full credit to everyone involved in the different projects.

At last all the preparations had been completed—two full days
before
the date Aivas had set them.

Two hundred suited riders on two hundred gloved dragons awaited the signal in their Weyrs. Another nine suited riders were ready to do their part in this great enterprise, scattering the “disimproved” ovoids. The three leaders, F’lar, N’ton, and Jaxom, were in the
Yokohama
cargo bay. Lessa was there with Ramoth, who was breeding, and Jaxom did not dare ask how F’lar and Mnementh had timed that so precisely. She had accepted the fact that she would not take part in this venture, but she didn’t like her exclusion one bit.

Master Fandarel and Belterac were about to proceed with the separation of the
Yokohama
’s engine shaft from the main sphere. Bendarek was aboard the
Bahrain
, and Evan was on the
Buenos Aires
to perform the same operation. Once that was done, the dragons would be called up to take their places.

Aivas had appointed F’lar to take the
Yokohama
’s unit and deposit it in the approximate center of the great Rift on the Red Planet. Jaxom was to take his group to one end of the Rift, while N’ton was to take his to the other, more or less, close to the immense craters. Only Jaxom knew what had caused those craters—and
when
. The trick would be to keep N’ton from guessing.

Each section would be accompanied by three brown, blue, and green dragons, Mirrim included, who would scatter the sacks of disimproved Thread toroids in a low-altitude flight across the bleak Red Planet’s surface and across the flat ring of ovoids orbiting above the planet’s equator. Oldive and Sharra had just barely accomplished their part of the undertaking. Mirrim’s one hundredth attempt had indeed been the crucial one.

With careful fingers and a frown of concentration, Master Fandarel pressed in the code words that would activate the appropriate sequence to disengage the engines. Aivas had had to delve deeply to find the secret ciphers in the captain’s private files.

“There,” the Mastersmith said with an air of triumph.

The monitor displayed lights, and then a message lit up—but not the one that Fandarel expected.

“There is a problem,” he said. “The computer refuses to activate.”

“The appropriate code word was given, the necessary sequence was provided. Separation should be initiated,” Aivas said crisply.

“The screen says ‘Unable to activate.’ ”

“Unable to activate?” There was genuine surprise in Aivas’s voice.

“Unable to activate,” Fandarel repeated, wondering what the problem could possibly be. The
Yokohama
’s machinery, though it had lain dormant for many centuries, had always complied with the proper action for every operation requested. “I will try again.”

“A scan is being run to ascertain if there is any computer malfunction,” Aivas replied.

“Master Fandarel?” Bendarek queried from the
Bahrain
on the ship linkup. “Shall I proceed now?”

“We do not have separation here yet,” Fandarel said, keenly feeling the failure and hoping it would be momentary.

“Should I not see if the
Bahrain
is more responsive?” Bendarek could not quite suppress his eagerness to begin.

“Aivas?” Fandarel was always a generous man. If Bendarek could proceed, it would be as well.

“No malfunction in the program can be discovered,” Aivas said. “It is recommended that the
Bahrain
proceed with separation.”

Bendarek had a little more luck than Fandarel. “My screen says ‘dysfunction discovered.’ Dysfunction of what?”

Evan, on the
Buenos Aires
, initiated the program in his turn and received
MECHANICAL MALFUNCTION
as his message.

“Which one is correct?” Fandarel asked, feeling somewhat vindicated by the failure of all attempts.

“They may all be correct,” Aivas replied. “Reviewing.”

Fandarel thought that seemed a good idea for himself as well, and rehearsed, without actually pressing the keys down, the sequence he had inserted.

“It is a mechanical malfunction,” Aivas announced.

“Of course!” Fandarel bellowed as he realized what it had to be. “These ships have been in space for over twenty-five hundred years. The mechanical parts have had no maintenance.”

“You are correct, Master Fandarel,” Aivas replied.

“What’s the delay up there?” F’lar asked from the cargo bay.

“A minor one,” Fandarel answered. Then paused. “Where?” he asked Aivas.

“The clamps have locked, due to cessation of timely servicing.”

“It’s not just frozen, is it?” Fandarel asked.

“You have learned much, Master Fandarel. Fortunately the clamps can be lubricated on the inside, through an access, a narrow one.” The screen lit up with the schematic of the area between the skins of the
Yokohama
. “It will, however, be necessary to use a special lubricant, for there is little heat in that area, and the oils you ordinarily use will be ineffective. A mixture of liquid neon, liquid hydrogen, and liquid helium must be made with a tiny amount of silicone fluid. That is the equivalent of penetrating oils for use in these very cold conditions. The low molecular weight of gases causes them to evaporate first, but their viscosity is quite low and carries the heavier silicone oil into very thin spaces. That should effect the solution to this minor problem.”

“Minor problem?” For once, Fandarel lost his patience. “We do not have those liquids.”

“You have the means to produce them, if you remember the liquid-helium experiments.”

Fandarel did. “That will take time.”

“There is time,” Aivas said. “A wide window was allowed for this transfer. There
is
time.”

The dragonriders were not pleased with the delay—they had built themselves and their dragons up to this incredible effort and were impatient to go.

“If it isn’t one thing, it’s another, isn’t it?” N’ton said with a wry grin.

“Tomorrow?” Jaxom asked, grinning to allay F’lar’s irritated frown. “Same time, same stations?”

F’lar pushed back the lock of hair that never seemed to stay in place and acknowledged the unanticipated delay with a flick of his finger.

“We’ll speak to the riders, Aivas.”

Despite his lightheartedness, Jaxom had experienced an incredible letdown at having the expedition postponed. More than anyone else, he had had to fortify himself for the tremendous effort required of him and Ruth.

A day makes little difference to me, Jaxom,
Ruth said encouragingly.
The meal I had yesterday will last long past tomorrow.

That’s good,
Jaxom replied, more grimly than the circumstances warranted—but he had been primed for action today!
Well, let’s get back to Eastern and tell my wings to relax.

It was, in fact, several days before the penetrating oil could be manufactured. Jaxom had Ruth eat at least one small wherry each evening, and Ruth complained that he would be so full he wouldn’t be able to complete one jump, let alone two.

“That’s preferable to having you fade out on me when we’re stuck between times,” Jaxom replied.

He waited out the delay at Cove Hold with Sharra, who was recovering from intensive hours in the laboratory. She had lost weight and had deep circles under her eyes. At least he could occupy himself with seeing to her needs. And his. And Robinton’s.

Jaxom was distressed to see the change in the Masterharper, a subtle one, but he could tell that Lytol and D’ram were also aware of it. Robinton had recovered from the physical shock but not from the mental one. He seemed himself when in company, but too often Jaxom would catch him deep in thoughts—disturbing and unhappy ones, to judge by the sadness in the Harper’s eyes. Also, he seemed to drink less, and with less relish. He was a man going through the motions of living.

Zair is worried
, Ruth told Jaxom when he caught his rider worrying about the Harper.

“It may just take a little more time for Master Robinton to recuperate,” Jaxom said, trying to reassure himself. “He’s not as young as he was, less resilient. And it was a ghastly experience. When this is over, we’ll think of something to rouse him from his apathy. Sharra’s noticed it, too. She’ll talk it over with Oldive. You know how testy he gets when he thinks you’re fussing over him. We’ll do something. Tell Zair. Now, just once more, let’s go through the star pattern for our first timing.”

We both know those stars better than the ones above us now,
Ruth said, but he dutifully did as Jaxom asked.

The call to assemble came in late afternoon. Fosdak, the slimmest of the smith journeymen, had squeezed his suited self into the interstices and pumped the penetrating liquid and oil into the fine crack of each of the huge clamps that held the engine shaft onto the main ship segment. By the time he had done the
Buenos Aires
and returned to the
Yokohama
to see if the application had dispersed, he was reasonably confident of success.

Once again Fandarel used code-word and key sequence, punched
ENTER
, and waited. This time the computer acknowledged the commands and responded with
READY TO EXECUTE.

“I am ready to execute the order,” Fandarel said.

“Go, man, go!” F’lar cried.

Fandarel activated the program. He didn’t know if anyone else heard the metallic squealings and clangings, or the final
clunk
as the clamps let go, the noise was loud enough in the engineering section.

“We have separation,” he said, and then remembered to activate the exterior optics to view the effect.

“Weyr, alert!” F’lar called, and Fandarel had a fine view of the sudden appearance of the massed dragons, each dropping to prearranged positions along the upper spars. “Magnificent!”

“The
Bahrain
has separation!” Bendarek cried.

Fandarel could not see the
Bahrain
.

Jaxom could, for this was his responsibility. When F’lar had alerted the wings under his command—from Benden, Igen, and Telgar Weyrs—Jaxom had called up his from Eastern, Southern, and Ista. The assembly that answered him was the most impressive he had ever seen in all his Turns. Each arrived in place at the same moment, just as they had drilled. Dragon claws gripped the long spars, and every faceplate was turned toward the spot on the tail section where he and Ruth were perched.

Ruth, give the dragons their direction to the Red Star in star-pattern. Remember, there will be no crater at that end of the Rift.

I do, because we will put it there!
Ruth sounded elated.

There would be no confusion over that formality: the dragons expected to receive their destination from Ruth. None of them had been to the Red Star. All the riders had been told that it would appear to be a longer jump than they were accustomed to making, and that they should remember to breathe regularly in the interval.

They understand and are ready,
Ruth reported a moment later.

Jaxom took in a deep breath, resting one gloved hand on Ruth’s shoulder before he raised it high.
Then we must go,
he said,
before I lose my nerve.
And he dropped his arm.

It was a long jump, even if it was expected. Jaxom counted thirty carefully inhaled and exhaled breaths. Too bad Lessa hadn’t remembered how long it had taken her to go back four hundred Turns—that knowledge would have been reassuring. On thirty-two breaths, Jaxom’s anxiety began to ooze out of his control.

Here!
Ruth announced in a great echoing shout in Jaxom’s mind.

And they were hovering inches above one end of the Great Rift. The stars were in the correct pattern in the sky. The desolate landscape at that edge of the Rift was just as bleak at this time of its life as it was in Jaxom’s Turn.

Jaxom hauled his mind back to the business at hand. They had ten minutes to let the massive engine down into the Rift.

Those who sow the ovoids are proceeding,
Ruth told him.

Jaxom relayed the order for the dragons to lower their burden—and then he grinned broadly. The dragons
had
accomplished this incredible journey! The weight of the engine had been as nothing—because they had not thought of it as anything out of the ordinary. A surge of elation buoyed his spirits immeasurably.

We did it, Ruth! We did it!

Of course we did it. Easy now, keep that thing level,
Ruth added, and Jaxom gestured to the rear dragons who were dropping faster than the forward ones.
T’gellan asks how far down are we to go with this?

Tell him, as far down as we can lower without the dragons scraping their wings. There should be some rocky protrusions that’ll hold it in place long enough. Steady now, keep a regular rate of descent.

They were well below the rim of the Rift when Jaxom felt the whole structure jar.

Can we drop down, Ruth, and see if this will do?