The Chronicles of Pern: First Fall (10 page)

“You made a good compromise,” Jim said with warm approval.

The next day, a team of dolphins and dolphineers swam the new mast out to the
Cross.
With much ceremony and a lot of hard work, it was properly stepped, new mainstays put in place, the boom rehung, and the patched canvas threaded onto the sheet and dutifully raised to flap in the light breeze.

In Jim’s experience,
events
had a habit of occurring in threes. The third one came from Paul Benden and his almost incoherent account of the reappearance of the seventeen dragons and their riders. After helping in the evacuation of Landing, Sean, Sorka, and the other dragonriders had been asked to fly some supplies across the southern continent to Key Largo, even as Jim’s flotilla was sailing offshore. Contact had broken down somehow, and what had happened to the young riders and their priceless dragons had caused everyone understandable anxiety. Jim took the call at his makeshift beach office, where he was figuring out how and what to load on the ships that would soon be ready to continue their westward journey.

“They just appeared in the skies above Fort, Jim,” Paul said, the astonishment and elation in his voice such a tonic that Jim changed the setting to wide range so that everyone nearby could hear the account. “The dragons were spouting flame, charring Thread, diving into tangles, disappearing, and reappearing. The riders of the queens were carrying flamethrowers. The males chewed firestone and belched flame until they ran out of stone—just about the time Thread got up into the Range, where it can’t hurt rock much.

“And then,” Paul went on with a ring in his voice, “those devious young rogues landed and demanded numbweed and medical supplies for their dragons before they paid any attention to my orders to report to me on the double.”

Jim grinned, as did many of the other listeners. The seaman thought of his ship first, his own safety second: the dolphineer of his mammalian partner, the rider his dragon. He exchanged a significant glance with Theo.

“That done, damned if young Sean Connell didn’t march ’em smartly right up the entrance to the Hold.
Then
he had the impudence to introduce me to what he called ‘the dragonriders of Pern’!”

Jim laughed as he leaned toward the speaker unit. “Well, that’s what they are, aren’t they, Paul?”

“Indeed! Now I’m sure we’ll make it, Jim. I’m sure!”

“So are we all.” Jim circled his hand to raise three cheers from the audience. “Give them our compliments, too. Such news gives
us
new heart, as well.”

He was surprised to see Theo wiping tears from her eyes and, later, when they lay beside each other in the double bunk, asked her why.

“Look, swimming with Dart is the best thing—well, almost the best thing,” she modified, grinning at him, “that ever happened to me. But I think flying a fighting dragon would be a notch—well, maybe several notches above that, given the fact they’re our equivalent of the battle of Dunkirk. So few against so much.”

All the work seemed to finish up at the same time, which Kaarvan said was the result of good planning and Jim was equally certain was due to the boost in morale. So they loaded the
Pernese Venturer
with the last of the more important items and distributed the remainder, unreadable bar codes notwithstanding, among the ships that were to sail west again. The
Venturer
could make a swift trip north and be ready to sail back to escort Jim across both Great Currents.

When he finally reached Key Largo, Jim conferred with Paul, who was taking no chances and had sent all four of the large ships,
Pernese Venturer, Mayflower, Maid,
and
Perseus,
to await their arrival at the jump-off point. It had become a matter of honor to the now well-seasoned skippers of the small craft in his flotilla to bring their ships into the new port. But few of them were capable of sailing across the two Great Currents without some assistance, and for that, the four ships with more powerful auxiliary engines would escort them. Jim had thought long and hard on how to maneuver the flotilla past this hazard and was pleased when the other captains agreed with him. The plan was to sail in the quieter coastal water from Key Largo, beyond the point where the Eastern Current was at its closest to the Western one. Then they’d turn bravely in to the Eastern Current and let it carry the vessels a good day’s sail away from their final destination, where they’d slip across the current into the calm dividing waters. Then, using outboard engines and the big ships towing the ones that didn’t have the speed or bulk to cross the Western Current, they’d maneuver that hazard until they reached the safe waters at the end of the Boll peninsula. The coastal sail up to the Fort harbor ought then to be routine.

They sent dolphins ahead to check on incoming weather. Then, assured of fair weather and decent wind, they set out on the dangerous Crossing. This time luck was with them: they experienced no heart-stopping moments on the Crossing and made the quieter northern coastal waters. Some powered ships even had a little fuel left. Dolphin teams had swum in constant escort in case of engine failure. Then it was plain sailing. Almost anticlimactic, Jim thought, as the
Southern Cross
slid majestically into the darker northern waters bound for her last port of call.

Not quite her last, he amended. While stopping at Key Largo, he and the other skippers had had a long talk about plans for the future and how to protect their ships during Threadfall.

“They built us a sort of boat shed under the wharf,” Kaarvan said, sketching the facility as he spoke. “Masts have to be unstepped, of course, but that’s neither here nor there.
Venturer
just fits, with two other big ships or four of the smaller ones.”

“Those’d be enough to supply Fort with fresh fish when there’re clear days,” Sejby said, scrubbing at the bristle on his chin and gazing thoughtfully at Jim.

Jim caught the unspoken words. Lifting his gelicast arm, he managed a grin. “Well, this’ll keep me out of action for a while.”

“There’s good news, too, Jim,” Veranera said quickly. “Ozzie mentioned a big sea cavern on the eastern end of the Big Island. He said it was large enough to sail into. Deep water even at low tide, and the roof tall enough so the masts needn’t be unstepped. We sort of figured we could take it turn and turn about. Keep at least one or two of the big ships on duty, and store the others in the cavern.”

Jim hauled the chart of that area to him. The site of the cavern had been marked. “I’ve no objections. In fact, for me and the
Southern Cross,
it makes a lot of sense. Be a nice easy sail.”

“After what you just did, it would indeed,” Per Pagnesjo remarked with unusual levity. “I take some shore time, or the missus get annoyed with me.”

They decided then that the
Cross,
the
Maid,
and the
Perseus
would spend the first year in the cavern. The
Venturer
would come, too, to bring the other crews back. Kaarvan wanted to establish whether or not the cavern was big enough to accommodate his ship, which was the largest. If it was, he’d rest her the following year.

“Then we can keep more seamen working, because the wharf will shield the smaller ships,” Kaarvan said. “That keeps more people happy.”

“You’re putting the
Southern Cross
in—what did they used to call it?” Theo asked when he told her the plan.

“Mothballs.”

“What’re they?”

“Basically cocoons. Moths came from cocoons. Flying insects that were attracted by flames.” Jim wasn’t really paying much attention to what he was saying, distracted by her proximity in the nighttime quiet of his cabin.

“You’ll miss sailing, Jim.”

He knew he would, but they both knew that his decision was sensible. He tired so easily these days, even doing what he loved most.

“I will, but I’ll enjoy it even more when we get back to it.”

“We?”

“Well, Dart has no problem with becoming official escort to the
Cross,
does she?”

“Noooo.” Theo smoothed his hair back from his ears. “You need a haircut.”

“Possibly.” Her totally irrelevant observations only endeared her more to him. “Two, with Dart, can handle the
Cross
on the way to Big Island,” he went on, still resisting in his inner heart the necessity of mothballing his beloved ship.

“A honeymoon?” And Theo giggled.

He gave her a quick hug. “Then next year . . .”

“There’ll be three of us, Jim . . .”

He pushed himself up to look down at her. “You don’t mean . . .”

She laughed in great delight at his surprise. “Told you you weren’t beyond it, man. Thought I might be, but seems I got in under the wire.”

At that point, he forgot what other plans he had intended to discuss with her and knew that his decision to harbor the
Cross
was for the best possible reason.

It was a cloudy day, mist whisking in and out of the little bays to port as the
Southern Cross
made her way toward the wharf Kaarvan had just announced on the comunit was not far ahead now. The jib sail was barely full of wind, but a gentle current was helping the forward motion.

Suddenly the pealing of a bell sounded through the mist. Abruptly every dolphin of the escort broke the surface in ecstatic leaps of unusual height, a couple walking on their tails in their joy. Even Jim could distinctly hear them shouting “Bell, bell, bell!”

Theo looked at Jim in perplexed astonishment. “But you didn’t take the Monaco Bell! How . . .”

“The
Buenos Aires
carried more than one bell in her hold,” Jim said, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“Damn,” Theo said, sniffing, and he saw tears sliding down her cheeks. “That was damned thoughtful of someone. Look how glad they are that there’s a bell for them here, too. Just listen to the noise they’re making.”

Jim was beginning to know when the dolphins were “singing.” He knew too, that, somehow, they had come across the seas of Pern to . . . home!

“L
OOK,
I
KNOW
that, Paul,” Red Hanrahan said, irritably brushing his shaggy mop of silver-shot red hair back from his forehead. “We waste less keeping it all central. And my having supplies doesn’t mean I won’t share ’em whenever necessary.”

It occurred to Paul Benden that most of the male residents of the vast Fort Hold were in need of haircuts—except, of course, the young dragonriders, now over five hundred strong in their Weyr. They cropped theirs to a stubble: easier to wear under the hide helmets they’d adopted. But there couldn’t be that much of a shortage of scissors, could there?

Then, annoyed at the increasing tendency of his mind to go wandering off on tangents, he jerked his attention back to what Red was saying.

“But the fact remains that most of the horses are infected with thrush from having to stand on soggy wet bedding that we don’t have the resources to change, and they are acutely in need of
regular
exercise, which they can’t get here. The cave structure at the place I’ve found is sandy-floored, much easier to keep clean, and big enough so I can have an indoor exercise area for those days when Thread keeps us immured.”

“And . . .” Paul tried again, for he hadn’t been able to complete a sentence since Red had desperately launched into his rationale for moving out of the Fort Hold.

“I’ve checked with Sean. We won’t be a burden on him and the Weyr. Thread has never—yet—” Red gave a rueful smile, which made him look slightly less haggard. “—come right over the place I’ve found. And,” he added, waggling a finger as Paul opened his mouth, “Cobber and Ozzie have thoroughly explored the tunnel system shown on the echo survey with Wind Blossom’s little photosensitive uglies, so the dangerous tunnels are blocked off. We’ve got a small hydroelectric system using one of the nearby streams, and Boris Pahlevi has plotted out the most efficient way to use the rock cutters and the borers. Cecilia Rado’s given us plans to enlarge and improve the main chamber and give us a lot of apartments in the facade. We’ll use the cut stone for housing along the base of the cliff, just as you’ve done here, so we’ll have workshops as well as separate quarters”—and Red emphasized that aspect by enunciating each syllable—“to accommodate the families coming with us. That’s the biggest incentive in moving out, Paul.” He gave a convulsive shudder. “I know we’ve all had to cram in together for mutual support and safety. But enough is enough. Especially in my profession. I’m losing the best breeding years of my mares’ lives. And, now that we’ve got the dried seaweed to add protein and fiber, we can get by with just the one feed-maker.”

Paul held up both hands. “Let me get a word in edgewise, will you, Red?” He grinned. “I have no objections to you moving out.”

“You don’t?” Red was genuinely surprised. “But I thought . . .”

Paul Benden indulged in a rare laugh, which made the big vet realize how much Paul had altered in the past nine years. Unsurprising, when one thought how many burdens he had assumed since Emily Boll’s death from fever three years earlier. Paul rose and went to the wall in his office that was covered with survey maps taken by the probes as the colony ships had moved into their parking orbit. The areas explored by various teams showed the symbols of metals and minerals discovered; red marked the cave sites with rough sketches of the tunnel systems made from the probe echo system. Three enlargements depicted the immense, sprawling Fort Hold; the old crater, Fort Weyr, which the dragonriders inhabited; and the newest human habitation at Boll, founded the summer before.

“I
won’t
let anyone make an ill-advised move, Red, just to get away from here, but decentralization is essential.” Red knew that Benden feared another of the lightning-swift fevers that had decimated the Hold three years before. “We must begin to establish autonomous and self-sufficient units. That’s part of the Charter I’m determined we must implement. On the other hand, with Threadfall a constant menace, I must limit new settlements to those that won’t overtax the dragons during a Fall. We can’t even consider expanding unless they can give aerial protection. I won’t risk any more precious lives—not after the most recent plague.”