Dragonsdawn (4 page)

Sallah looked away, feeling slightly soiled. She drank the last gulp of coffee, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste. The ship’s coffee was lousy, but she would miss even that facsimile when the supply was exhausted. Coffee had failed on all the colony planets so far, for reasons no one had yet discerned. The survey team had discovered and recommended a Pernese shrub bark as a coffee substitute, but Sallah did not have much faith in that.

After the identification of the landing site, the noise level in the lounge had risen to an almost intolerable pitch. With a sigh, Sallah ditched her rubbish in the disposer, passed her tray under the cleanser, and stacked it neatly with others. She permitted herself one last long look at Pern. We won’t spoil this planet, she thought. I personally won’t let anyone spoil it.

As she turned to leave, her glance fell on Avril’s dark head. Now there’s an odd one to be a colonist, Sallah thought, not for the first time. Avril was listed as a contractor, with a handsome stake as a professional fee, but she scarcely seemed the sort who would be comfortable in a rural environment. She had all the sophisticated manners of the citified. The Pern expedition had attracted some first-rate talents, but most of those to whom Sallah had talked had been motivated to leave behind the syndicate-ridden technocracy and its ever-spiraling need for resources.

Sallah liked the notion of joining a self-reliant society so far from Earth and her other colonies. From the moment she had read the Pern prospectus she had been eager to be part of the venture. At sixteen, with service compulsory at that point in the bitterly fought Nathi War, she had chosen pilot training, with additional studies in probe and surveillance techniques. She had completed her training just as the war ended and then used her skills to map devastated areas on one planet and two moons. When the Pern expedition was put together, she had not only been eligible to be a charterer, but had the experience and skills that would make her a valuable addition to the professional complement.

She left the off-duty lounge to return to her quarters, but she was not sure she would be able to sleep. In two days, they would reach their long-awaited goal. Then life would get interesting!

Just as Sallah turned into the main corridor, a little girl with burnished deep red hair lurched into her, tried to regain her balance, and fell heavily at Sallah’s feet. Bursting into loud sobs, more from frustration than from hurt, the child clung to Sallah’s leg in a grip astonishingly strong for one so young.

“There now, not to cry. You’ll get your balance back, pet,” Sallah said soothingly, reaching down to stroke the child’s silky hair and then to loosen her frantic grip.

“Sorka! Sorka!” An equally redheaded man holding a little boy by one hand, and a very pretty brunette woman by the other, moved unsteadily toward Sallah. The woman had all the signs of someone only just awake: her eyes didn’t quite focus, and while she was trying to respond to the situation, she was unable to concentrate.

The man’s eyes flicked to Sallah’s collar emblem. “I do apologize, Pilot,” the redheaded man said, grinning apologetically. “We’re really not awake yet.”

He was trying to disencumber one hand to come to Sallah’s assistance, but the woman refused to relinquish her grasp, and plainly he could not let go of the tottering boy.

“You need help,” Sallah said pleasantly, wondering which medic had let the totally unstable quartet out on their own.

“Our quarters are only a few steps along.” He nodded toward the splinter aisle behind Sallah. “Or so I was told. But I never appreciated how far a few steps could be.”

“What’s the number? I’m off duty.”

“B­8851.”

Sallah looked at the plates on the corridor corners and nodded. “It
is
just the next aisle. Here, I’ll help. There now, Sorka—is that your name? Here, I’ll just—”

“Excuse me,” the man interrupted as Sallah moved to lift the child into her arms. “They kept telling us we’d be better off walking. Trying to walk, that is.”

“I can’t walk,” Sorka cried. “I’m lopsided.” She clung more fiercely to Sallah’s legs.

“Sorka! Behave yourself!” The redhead frowned at his daughter.

“Got an idea!” Sallah said in a brisk friendly tone. “You take both my hands—” She peeled Sorka’s fingers from her leg and grasped each little hand firmly in her own. “—and walk in front of me. I’ll keep you on an even keel.”

Even with Sallah’s help, the family made slow progress, impeded by the more agile walkers rushing by on private errands, and by the uncertainty of their own steps.

“I’m Red Hanrahan,” the man said when their progress improved.

“Sallah Telgar.”

“Never thought I’d need help from a pilot before we reached Pern,” he said with a wide grin. “This is my wife, Mairi, my son, Brian, and you’ve got Sorka.”

“Here we are,” Sallah said, reaching their compartment and throwing open the door. She grimaced at the size of the accommodation and then reminded herself that their occupancy would only be for a short time. Even though the bunks were strapped up against the walls in their daytime position, the remaining floor space allowed for little movement.

“Not much larger than the quarters we just vacated,” Red remarked equably.

“How are we supposed to exercise in here?” his wife demanded, a rather shrill note in her voice as she rolled her body around the doorjamb and got a good look at the size of their cabin.

“One by one, I guess,” Red said. “It’s only for a few days, pet, and then we’ll have a whole planet to range. In you go, Brian, Sorka. We’ve kept Pilot Telgar long enough. You really saved us, Telgar. Thanks.”

Sorka, who had propped herself against the inside wall of their cabin as her father encouraged the rest of his family to enter, slid to a sitting position on the floor, her little knees against her chest. Then she cocked her head to peer up at Sallah. “Thanks from me, too,” she said, sounding more self-possessed. “It’s really silly not knowing up from down, and side from side.”

“I agree, but the effect will disappear very quickly. We all had to go through it when we woke up.”

“You did?” Sorka’s incredulous expression turned into the most radiant smile Sallah had ever seen, and she found herself grinning, too.

“We did. Even Admiral Benden,” she said mendaciously. She ruffled the child’s silky, magnificently titian hair. “I’ll see you around. Okay?”

“While you’re in that position, Sorka, do those exercises we were shown. Then it’ll be Brian’s turn,” Red Hanrahan was saying as Sallah closed the door behind her.

She reached her own quarters without further incident, though the corridors were filled with recent sleepers lurching about, their expressions ranging from intense concentration to horrified dismay. The moment Sallah opened her door, she was aware of the occupants asleep inside. She grimaced. Very carefully she slid the panel back and leaned against it, wondering what to do. She was too keyed up to sleep yet; she had to wind down somehow. She decided to go to the pilots’ ready room for some stimulating simulator practice. The moment of truth for her abilities as a shuttle pilot was rapidly approaching.

Her route was impeded by another recently awakened colonist whose coordination suffered from prolonged disuse. He was so rake-thin that Sallah feared he would break a bone as he lurched from side to side.

“Tarvi Andiyar, geologist,” he said, courteously introducing himself as soon as she had supported him to a vertical stance. “Are we really orbiting Pern?” His eyes crossed as he looked at her, and Sallah managed to suppress the grin that his comical expression evoked. She told him their position. “And you have seen with your own bright and pretty eyes this marvelous planet?”

“I have and it’s every bit as lovely as forecast,” Sallah assured him warmly. He smiled broadly in relief, showing her very white and even teeth. Then he gave a shake of his head, which seemed to correct the aberrant focus of his eyes. He had one of the most beautiful faces she had ever seen on a man—not Benden’s rugged, warrior features, but a sophisticated and subtle arrangement, almost sculpted, like some of the ancient Indic and Cambodian princes on ruined stone murals. She flushed as she remembered what those princes had been doing in the murals.

“Would you know if there are any updated probe reports? I am exceedingly eager to get to work.”

Sallah laughed, amusement easing the sensual jolt his face had given her. “You can’t even walk and you want to get to work?”

“Isn’t fifteen years’ holiday long enough for anyone?” His expression was mildly chiding. “Is that not cabin C­84l1?”

“It is indeed,” she said, guiding him across the corridor.

“You are as beautiful as you are kind,” he said, one hand on the panel for support as he tried to make a very courtly bow. She had to grab at his shoulders as he overbalanced. “And quick.” With a more judicious inclination of his head, and with considerable dignity under the circumstances, he opened his door.

“Sallah!” Drake Bonneau exclaimed, striding down the corridor toward her. “Anybody told you where we’re landing?” He had the eager expression of someone about to confer a favor on a friend.

“It took no more than nine minutes for the scuttlebutt to circulate,” she said coolly.

“That long?” He pretended disdain and then produced one of the smiles that he assumed would charm anyone. “Let’s drink to it. Not much longer to enjoy our leisure, eh? Just you and me, huh?”

She suppressed her distrust of his flattery. He was probably not even conscious of the triteness of his glib phrases. She had heard him trot out the same smooth lines for any reasonably attractive female, and at the moment, his casual insincerity irritated her. Yet he was not a bad sort, and certainly he had had courage enough to spare during the war. Then she realized that her uncharacteristic annoyance was a reaction to the sudden bustle, noise, and proximity of so many people after the last few years of quiet. Relax, she told herself sternly, it’s only for a few days and then you’ll be too busy flying to worry about crowds and noise.

“Thanks, Drake, but Kenjo has me down for simulator practice in—” She glanced at her wrist. “—five minutes. Getcha another time.”

To avoid the crowded corridors, she took the emergency tube down to the flight deck, then made her way past the variety of cargo secured there to the admiral’s gig, the
Mariposa.
It was a compact little craft, with its delta wing and its perky, pointed nacelle, but it would be full of quiet and unoccupied space. Sallah punched the hatch release.

S
ALLAH SHARED HER
next watch, the dogwatch, with Kenjo Fusaiyuki. There was little for either of them to do, bar reacting if a glitch halted the programs. Sallah was hacking around, trying to find something interesting enough to keep her awake, when she noticed that Kenjo had activated one of the smaller screens on his position.

“What have you got there?” she asked before she remembered Kenjo was not generally outgoing and might resent her interruption.

“I was decoding the gen on that eccentric wanderer,” he replied, without looking up from the screen.

“Oh, the one that had the astronomers all excited?” Sallah asked. She grinned, remembering the unusual spectacle of the rather staid, pedantic astronomer, Xi Chi Yuen, flushed with excitement and dancing about the bridge.

“Quite likely,” Kenjo said. “It does seem to have an enormously eccentric orbit, more cometary than planetary, though its mass indicates its planetary size. Look.” He tapped out a sequence that brought up the satellites of Pern’s star system in relation to their primary and to one another. “It computes to come in farther than the usual fourth planet position and actually intrudes on the Oort cloud at aphelion. This is supposed to be an old system, or so the EEC report leads one to believe, and that planet ought to have a more conventional orbit.”

“There was talk that it could be a stray that the Rukbat sun attracted.”

Kenjo shook his head. “That has been ruled out.” He typed out another sequence and the diagram on the screen shifted to another projection. In a few seconds, equations overlaid the system diagram. “Look at the odds against that.” He pointed to the blinking nine-figure probability. “It would have to be a cometary-type orbit, right into the system. But it’s not.” His long, bony fingers reset the screen. “I can’t find a harmonic with the other planets. Ah, Captain Keroon registers the opinion that it might have been captured by Rukbat about ten of its cycles ago.”

“No, I think Xi Chi Yuen ruled that out. He computed it to be just after aphelion right now,” Sallah said. “What did he say? Ah . . .” She tried to remember.

Kenjo was already accessing that file. “His report actually says that the eccentric planetoid had just exited the Oort cloud, pulling some of the cloud matter with it.”

“He also said, and I remember that distinctly, that in about eight years’ time, we’ll have a rather spectacular meteorite show as our new world goes through the wisps of Oort material.”

Kenjo snorted. “I’d rather we didn’t. I don’t have much faith in that EEC report now that it’s being compared with what’s there. Those polka dots may be meteor damage after all.”

“I’m not going to lose any sleep over it.”

“Nor I.” Kenjo crossed his arms over his chest as the report continued to scroll up the screen. “Yuen apparently believes that with such an eccentric, almost parabolic orbit, this Pluto body may exit the star system again, or fall into the sun.”

“Which wouldn’t much notice, would it?”

Kenjo shook his head, his eyes still scanning the report. “Frozen solid. Much too far from Rukbat to get any warmth during most of its orbit. There’s a possibility of a cometary tail visible when it’s close in.” He exited that program and tapped out a new sequence. “Pern’s two moons are much more interesting.”

“Why? We’re not colonizing
them.
Anyway, fuel consumption allows for only the one trip to the moons, to set up the relay disks.”

Kenjo shrugged. “You
always
leave yourself an escape route.”

“To a moon?” Sallah was openly skeptical. “C’mon, Kenjo, we’re not at war with anyone or anything this far from the Hub. Give over.” She spoke kindly, knowing that Kenjo had had several very narrow escapes in the Nathi War.

“Old habits die hard,” he murmured in such a low voice that she almost missed it.

“Yeah, they do. But we’re all going to be able to start fresh.”

Kenjo merely grunted, signaling an end to his talkative mood.

As the colony ships slowed, they were filled with constant activity as sleepers continued to be awakened, and the immense cargo pods were opened and their contents transferred to decks, spilling into access corridors. When the shuttles had been secured for the long voyage, they had already been loaded with the grid components and other necessities to build a safe landing field for the mass of matériel and people to be discharged from the colony ships. The urgency was to have the next shipment—agricultural tools and supplies—ready to be hustled on board as soon as the shuttles returned. The agronomists had promised to break ground before the next shuttle flight could reach the planet.

There were six shuttles between the three ships: three in the
Yoko
, two in the
Buenos Aires
and one in the
Bahrain,
the latter equipped with special fittings for transporting livestock. Once the vessels had achieved their Lagrangian orbit, debarkation would commence.

Twelve hours before that event, all the sleepers had been revived. There was a fair amount of grumbling about the crowding. Many felt that the unessential people, especially young children, should have slept on until planetside accommodations were completed. But despite the inconvenience, Sallah agreed with the governor’s announcement that no one should be denied the chance to witness the end of the long journey and the incredible vision of their new world spinning in black space. Sallah could not keep her eyes off Pern and watched on whatever screen was available, even the tiny one in her quarters. She had also managed to get on the duty roster for the most important watch of the entire trip.

Afterward, Sallah always stoutly averred that she had known the instant the
Yokohama
reached its orbital position. The great ship had been slowing for days; the slight puff of the retros as they reduced the forward motion to a match with the planet below was infinitesimal. Suddenly they were turning with the planet, in position over a real point on Pern, seeming to come to a halt in relation to the geography below them. Somehow Sallah sensed that moment. She actually looked up from her console just as the helmsman, with suppressed excitement, turned to salute the commander.

“We have arrived, sir,” the helmsman announced.

At the same instant, a similar report came in from the
Bahrain
and the
Buenos Aires
, and those on the bridge erupted into cheers and undisciplined expressions of relief and exultation. Commander Ongola immediately informed the admiral of the completion of the maneuver and received formal thanks. Then he ordered all screens to focus on the planet spread out below them, curving away into night on the one side, and into brilliant day on the other.

Sallah joined in the hullabaloo until she noticed a break in the chatter from the probe and checked the monitor. The probe was merely switching its site as programmed. As she looked up, she caught a very sad, oddly pensive expression on Commander Ongola’s face. Aware of her scrutiny, he arched one eyebrow in query.

Sallah smiled back in sympathy. The end of his last voyage, she thought. Who wouldn’t be sad?

Both of Ongola’s heavy eyebrows went up, and with great dignity he turned his head away, giving the order for the shuttle-bay doors to be opened. The crew and the initial landing party were already strapped into their seats aboard the shuttles, awaiting the history-making order. Under her breath, Sallah murmured a good luck to Kenjo, Drake, and Nabol, who were piloting the
Yoko’s
three shuttles.

Klaxons announced the imminent departure, and immediately the main screen turned its eye to the landing site. The watch officers sat alert at their stations. Smaller screens showed the opened shuttle-bay doors from several angles, so that the bridge personnel could watch the shuttles begin to drift from their mother ship, dropping quickly on puffs of their jets before the main engines were ignited. They would spiral down across the planet, entering Pern’s atmosphere on the western edge of the northern continent, and braking as they continued on down and around the globe until they reached their landing site on the eastern end of the southern continent. Exterior cameras picked up the other three shuttles, which took their positions in the flotilla. Gracefully, all six arrowed down and then out of sight over the curve of the planet.

Sallah’s watch ended before the estimated time of arrival on Pern, but she made herself small against the side wall, along with everyone else from her watch, in order to have the best view possible. She knew that every screen on the ship was broadcasting the same information, and that the visual of the actual landing would flash simultaneously on all three colony vessels—but somehow it seemed more official to see it all from the bridge. So she stayed, reminding herself to breathe from time to time and shifting from one tired swollen leg to another. She would be relieved when the spin went down in order to facilitate the moving of cargo—but soon she would be planetside, with no convenient spin to turn off to reduce the effects of gravity.

“Got rid of your mates?” Stev Kimmer asked, stepping quickly into Avril’s room after a quick glance over his shoulder. He closed the door behind him.

Avril turned to face him, arms extended; she flicked her fingers to indicate unoccupied space, and smiled in smug satisfaction. “Rank has privileges. I used mine. Lock it. Occasionally that oaf Lensdale tries to foist someone off on me, but I added three names below mine, and he may have given up.”

Kimmer, due shortly at the loading bay to take his place in one of the
Yoko’s
shuttles, got straight to the point. “So where is this incontrovertible proof of yours?”

Still smiling, Avril opened a drawer and took out a dark wood box with no apparent seam. She handed it to him; and he shook his head.

“I told you I’ve no time for puzzles. If this is a ploy to get a man into your bed, Avril, your timing’s way off.”

She grimaced, annoyed by his phrasing as well as the fact that changed circumstances forced her to seek assistance from others. But her first plan had run aground on the reef of Paul Benden’s sudden and totally unexpected indifference to her. Smiling away her distaste, she repositioned the box on her left palm, made a pass at the side facing her, then effortlessly lifted the top. As she had predicted, Stev Kimmer inhaled in surprise, the sparkle in his eyes fleetingly reflecting the rich glow of the ruby that sat nestled in the box. His hands made a movement toward it, and she tilted the box ever so slightly, causing the gem to twinkle wickedly in the light.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Avril’s voice was soft with affectionate possession as she turned her hand, letting him see the brilliance in the heart of the rose-cut gem. Abruptly, she took the jewel from its bed and handed it to him. “Feel it. Look at it through the light. Flawless.”

“How did you get it?” He shot her an accusing glance, his features set with a combination of envy, greed, and admiration. The latter was all for the magnificent jewel as he held it up to the lighting strip and examined its perfection.

“Believe it or not, I inherited it.” At his suspicious expression, she leaned gracefully against the small table, arms folded across her well-formed breasts, and grinned. “My grandmother at seven removes was a member of the EEC team that explored this mudball. Shavva bint Faroud, to give her her maiden name.”

“Fardles!” Stev Kimmer was genuinely astounded.

“Furthermore,” Avril went on, enjoying his reaction, “I have her original notes.”

“How did your family manage to keep this all those years? Why, it’s priceless.”

Avril raised her lovely arched eyebrows. “Great-grandmother was no fool. That bauble was not the only thing she brought back from here, or the other planets she explored.”

“But to bring this with you?” It was all Kimmer could do not to clench his fingers around the beautiful gem.

“I’m the last of my line.”

“You mean, you can claim part of this planet as a direct descendant of the EEC team?” Stev was beginning to warm to such possibilities.

She shook her head angrily at his misconstruction. “The EEC takes bloody good care that doesn’t happen. Shavva knew that. She also knew that sooner or later the planet would be opened for colonization. The ruby and her notes—” Avril paused dramatically. “—were handed down to me. And I—and her notes—are now in orbit around Pern.”

Stev Kimmer regarded her for a long moment. Then she reached over and took the ruby from him, negligently tossing it in one hand while Kimmer nervously watched.

“Now, do you want in on my scheme?” she asked. “Like my beloved and far-seeing predecessor, I have no wish to remain at the end of the galaxy on a seventh-rate world.”

Stev Kimmer narrowed his eyes and shrugged. “Have the others seen the ruby?”

“Not yet.” She smiled slowly with sly malice. “If you’ll help me, they may never need to.”

By the time Stev Kimmer made a hurried departure to the loading dock, Avril was sure of his participation. Now all she needed was a chance to talk to Nabhi Nabol.

Kenjo Fusaiyuko tensed at the first shudder as the shuttle hit atmosphere. The admiral, seated between Kenjo and Jiro Akamoto, the copilot, leaned forward eagerly, straining at his safety harness and smiling in anticipation. Kenjo permitted himself to smile, too. Then he carefully blanked his expression. Things were going far too well. There had been no problems with the countdown checklist. For all its fifteen years of inactivity, the shuttle
Eujisan
handled perfectly. They had achieved an excellent angle of entry and should make a perfect landing on a site that, according to probe report, was as level as a natural area could be.

Kenjo had always worried about possible contingencies, a habit that had made him one of the best transport pilots in Cygnus Sector Fleet in spite of the fact that the few emergencies he had faced had never been ones that he could have foreseen. He had survived because, in planning for foul-ups, he had been ready for anything.

But the Pern landing was different. No one, apart from the long-dead Exploration and Evaluation team, had set foot on Pern. And, in Kenjo’s estimation, the EEC team had not spent enough time on the planet to have made a proper assessment.