All the Weyrs of Pern (53 page)

Ruth’s eyes gleamed off the strata of rock, feldspar, granite, and darker stone mixtures. Then he was below the bulk of the engine.

It will slant a bit if they release it,
Ruth said, his sight more acute in the shadows than Jaxom’s.

Who’s on the bow end?
Jaxom asked.

Heth, Clarinath, Silvrath, Jarlath.

Please ask them to lower as far as they can.

They have.

Ask them to release their grip but be ready to grab again. We can’t have the thing slipping down into the abyss.

Heth says if the stern will move forward half a length, there is a good shelf of rock for the bow end.

Give Monarth that message.

I have.

Jaxom could see the slight movement as the engine mass settled.

All right.
Jaxom gestured to the riders facing him to release their end carefully.

That accomplished, with tension obvious as talons hovered inches above the spars, the massive engine seemed secure. Jaxom glanced at the timepiece strapped to his wrist. Eight minutes had elapsed. They were done.

As he signaled for the wings to rise out of the Rift, he asked Ruth to tell the dragons to land on the rim.

Are the sowers all right, Ruth?

They are,
the white dragon said equably.
Mirrim landed Path once to look at the ovoids in the dust. There are many many more than she thought there would be.

Tell Path that Mirrim is
not
to bring a sample back. We have enough of them
, Jaxom said firmly. The last thing they needed was an artifact from eighteen hundred Turns before.

Path says a lot of them are rotten.

All the more reason to leave them where they are!

Path will not bring one.

Jaxom glanced at his watch. Another minute had ticked by. The dragons and riders were glancing curiously about them.

Monarth says T’gellan says Threads are welcome to this planet,
Ruth remarked.
The engine will not explode yet, will it?

No, not according to the way Bendarek read the gauge when he checked this one over. I wonder how F’lar’s doing.

The small hand had circled once again.

Call the others in, Ruth. We’d better get back.

In eight seconds the green, blue, and brown riders rejoined the others.

Now came the dangerous part, the one Jaxom had fretted over since Aivas had informed him of this maneuver: getting all the dragons and riders safely back to their own time.

Impress on every dragon, Ruth, that he is to return to his own weyr. We will have been gone fourteen minutes, so there is really no chance that they will collide with themselves on the way back—is there?

I have told you many times, Jaxom, that I do not think they will become lost. Every dragon knows his way back to his own weyr.

Every dragon is to impress on his rider that there are to be no exceptions to this order,
Jaxom insisted.

I will tell them that they are too far away from Pern to disobey. They will not. The dragons certainly will not.
Ruth paused briefly.
I have told them. I may not be a queen, but dragons trust me.

Still apprehensive, Jaxom asked Ruth to rise up over the surface, so that every dragon could see him.

Back at their weyrs, they are to get out of the suits immediately, so they can be collected by browns and brought to Fort Weyr.

For our next trip.
Jaxom couldn’t believe the smug satisfaction in Ruth’s tone. So much for worrying if this double time-jumping was affecting the resilient white dragon. He saw that faceplates were turned in his direction, and he raised his arm, making the hand gesture to go
between
. A second later, he asked Ruth to take him back to
Yokohama
.

Curiously, time seemed to go more slowly on the return. Yet Jaxom reached his thirtieth exhalation just as they emerged in the cargo bay of the
Yokohama
. The first dragon he saw was Ramoth, Lessa beside her, and to one side, F’lar appeared. Jaxom glanced down at his wristwatch: F’lar’s trip had lasted the full fifteen minutes that dragons could endure without oxygen. The cargo bay was lit, but not well enough for Jaxom to tell if Mnementh was off color. Looking down at Ruth, he saw no alteration in the lustrous coat.

We’ve done it,
he said.
Everyone safely back below?

Monarth tells me so. Heth
. . . Ruth hesitated, and Jaxom felt part of him shrivel in fear.
Heth says they are all back, but several dragons are in bad color.

If that’s all, it’s nothing a good meal won’t cure. And you?

I’m fine. We have done very well. So far.

Now if I can only think of some pretext for the
Buenos Aires, Jaxom said as he removed his helmet.

You will.

“Yeeeeow!”

Jaxom was so startled by the loud cheer from F’lar that he nearly lifted himself from Ruth’s back. The white dragon, eyes whirling in amazement, also turned his head to see F’lar propel himself off Mnementh and go shooting toward the equally surprised Lessa. When he grabbed her, his momentum spun them off in a lazy twirl until they careened into Ramoth. The great gold dragon arched her neck to look down at the extraordinary behavior of the Benden Weyrleaders.

“We did it! The dragons of Pern did it! Aivas’ll have to eat sand on this one! He never thought we could do it!” F’lar was yelling at the top of his voice and laughing when echoes bounced back at him.

“Really, F’lar . . .” Lessa struggled to regain her balance, but Jaxom could see that she was smiling. “Yes, it is a splendid moment for the Weyrs! A splendid one! You’ve kept your promise. Indeed you have. That’ll show the Holds and Halls!”

Still grinning fatuously, F’lar leaned back against Ramoth, pushing back his wayward lock.

“In point of fact, Lessa,” he said then, his expression turned wry, “we haven’t quite done it. There’s N’ton’s wings to lift the third engine, and then we have to wait. First for the explosion, and then to see if it had the proper effect.”

Jaxom rubbed his hand across his lips. Knowledge of the future was a parlous asset. But it was enough that Jaxom
knew
this great enterprise would work.

“All safely down with your wings, Jaxom?” F’lar inquired as Jaxom floated to the deck.

“A few dragons off color . . .”

“Ruth’s not,” Lessa said, scrutinizing the white dragon and smiling approval at Jaxom.

“He says I’ve been stuffing him. Which of us gets to tell Aivas?” Jaxom asked, smiling broadly.

“We both do,” F’lar said. He clapped an arm across Jaxom’s shoulders, and together they bounced across the deck to the cargo-bay console. “You know, I didn’t see your wing.”

“Nor I yours,” Jaxom said, chuckling. “We poor soil-bound Pernese have no appreciation of real size . . .” He spread his arms wide. “That Rift is mammoth. We planted our engine really well down in the Rift on a wide stone ledge.”

“Aivas already knows,” Lessa said. “I told him you’d all gone and that Ramoth was in touch with Mnementh. Oddly enough,” she added, peering at Jaxom, “she couldn’t hear Ruth.”

“That is odd,” Jaxom said, pretending to be puzzled. “Ramoth hears him quite well. But you both forget how far that Rift stretches, and we were at the far northern tip of it.”

They reached the console.

“Aivas?” F’lar said.

“You have succeeded. Are all safely returned?”

“Yes. Now do you doubt draconic abilities?” F’lar asked, vindication mixed with the triumph in his laugh. He pulled Jaxom over in a comradely fashion. “You didn’t want to believe that dragons could do what we said they could.”

“We were right on schedule, too,” Jaxom said, allowing himself to chuckle. “My team set that engine down right where you wanted it. No problem!”

“You are both to be complimented on your courage and daring.”

“Don’t lay it on too thick, Aivas,” F’lar said.

“You deserve every credit that will accrue to your valorous deed. You have performed an incredible feat, Weyrleader F’lar. There is no doubt of that. Or that you will have achieved your personal goal—the end of Thread on this planet.”

Jaxom grinned at F’lar, pleased at Aivas’s unusual rhetoric.

“Your achievement is historically equivalent to that of the first dragonriders to fight Thread. Your name will be remembered with Sean O’Connell’s, Sorka Hanrahan’s—”

“That
is
laying it on too thick,” Jaxom said. “You’re the only one who remembered who were first to fight.”

“Actually, Jaxom,” F’lar said, grinning broadly, “Sebell showed me the corrected Harper Hall Records, and the eighteen riders who participated in that Fall were honored in their Turn. No one ran afoul of any of those dangers you warned us about,” F’lar added, savoring this auspicious moment.

“It is wise to prepare for unusual contingencies,” Aivas said.

“Well, we’ve done it.”

“And you deserve this,” Lessa said, joining them with a wineskin in her hands. “Best Benden.”

“The ‘sixteen?” Jaxom asked, craning his head for a look at the label.

“What else?” Lessa replied with a coquettish smile before she put the wineskin to her lips.

Jaxom blinked and, recovering, grinned back. It was about time that she treated him as an adult. Then he grew serious as he accepted the wineskin from her and raised it to the Benden Weyrleaders. “To all the Weyrs of Pern!”

“To us for this triumphant day!”

Jaxom took a long swig, then passed the wineskin to F’lar, who drank, then passed it to Lessa. As she sipped, F’lar turned to Jaxom. “You did tell ’em all to shuck those suits for the next round?”

“As planned, brown riders’ll bring them to N’ton at Fort Weyr.”

“Did your team scatter those treated ovoids as Aivas wanted?” Jaxom winked at Lessa. “Mirrim wanted to bring back some examples of empty ones she found lying about.” Lessa looked outraged, but he waved a reassurance. “I recommended that she didn’t.”

“How long before the explosion, Aivas?” F’lar asked.

“The HNO
₃
gauge readings reassure that there is no stoppage. The corrosion continues.”

“That’s no answer,” F’lar said, frowning.

Jaxom grinned. “That’s all you’re going to get right now. And we’ve still the third one to go.” Which constituted a major problem for him. He desperately needed a few private words with Aivas, to see if he had come up with any ideas on how Jaxom could insinuate himself into N’ton’s flight and get the dragons to take Ruth’s coordinates for the second time leap of a mere five hundred Turns. Somehow he
had
accomplished it, for the other crater was there on the southern tip of the Rift. Jaxom had racked his brains and, whenever he was private with Aivas over the past few days, had tried to figure out any way that didn’t involve explaining to N’ton. Not that N’ton wouldn’t believe Jaxom, or that he wasn’t discreet, but the fewer who knew about the time-traveling the better. Lessa would be furious at the risk involved.

So now he looked around him. “Are you the only ones up here, Lessa?”

“Oh, no.” She grinned. “Everyone else is on the bridge, peering through the telescope, hoping to see the explosion. Oh, I told them it wouldn’t happen soon. They were confident that they’d see the wings.” Jaxom’s breath caught when she said that. Oblivious, she went on. “Of course, they couldn’t. Sometimes, even Fandarel doesn’t comprehend vast distances. But today’s excitement is being shared.”

“How long has it been since we got back?” F’lar asked Jaxom.

“About twenty minutes,” Jaxom replied. “N’ton’s wings won’t be ready yet, F’lar. Does anyone need your suit?”

“I shouldn’t think so, but to be on the safe side, I’ll shuck out of it. Could you bring it over to the
Buenos Aires
if it is needed?” F’lar handed Jaxom the helmet and, with Lessa’s help, started removing the bulky suit. As he laid it over Jaxom’s arm, he added, “I think we’ll join those on the bridge, and the telescope, and watch N’ton work.”

As soon as the lift doors closed on them, Jaxom returned to the console. “All right, Aivas, just how do I get to go with N’ton?”

“That is being arranged,” Aivas replied, surprising him.

“
How
is it being arranged?” Jaxom demanded.

“You are quick and clever. You already have a reason to be on the
Buenos Aires
. You will know what to do when the time comes. Transfer now to the other ship.”

“I’ll know when the time comes, will I?” Jaxom muttered to himself as he threw the extra suit over his shoulder. Carrying the suit and two helmets, he made his way over to Ruth. “Hand this one up to me, will you?” he asked, giving the white dragon one of the two helmets so he would have a free hand to mount. “How’s N’ton doing? Has he got all the suits yet?”

As he arranged F’lar’s suit in front of him he caught a whiff of sweat. Well, he didn’t smell that sweet himself after his exertions.

N’ton says that some suits have to be sponged, and helmets have to match the suit.

Washed?
Dragonriders tended to be fastidious in their personal habits, and dressing in a sweaty suit might be distasteful to many.
Oh, yes, perhaps they might at that. I don’t understand about the helmets.

There was a pause while Ruth inquired of Monarth, N’ton’s bronze.

They forgot to put the suits back together—Ruth
was obviously repeating something he did not quite understand—and
the helmets got mixed up.

How long is sorting going to take?
And suddenly Jaxom had a glimmer of an idea. With nearly a hundred suits to match to helmets, it could take several hours. He hoped it would take a long time.

Monarth didn’t know. N’ton is not happy.

Reassure Monarth and N’ton, would you please, Ruth? Because this is going to work for our benefit. I think we can now put in an appearance on the
Buenos Aires.

There were three blues and two greens waiting there, all from Eastern Weyr, and Ruth was greeted with considerable awe by the young dragons. Knowing that the white dragon would enjoy their deferential attention, Jaxom left him there and took the lift up to the smaller bridge of the
Buenos Aires
.