The Chronicles of Pern: First Fall (5 page)

“Weather’s disimproving,” Bernard Shattuck remarked.

“Too heavy for the seven-meter hulls?” Jim asked, perusing the lists of cargo still piled on the Monaco strand. The day’s hard work had shown a definite lowering of the mass.

“With the more experienced crews,” Shattuck said after a thoughtful pause, “but I’d feel happier if they had dolphin escorts. How’re the dolphs holding up?”

Jim snorted, while Theo managed a weary chuckle.

“Them?” Efram said with utter disgust. “They’re enjoying this game we thought up for their amusement!”

Ben was grinning as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands cradling a hot drink. “Didja hear that the pods seem to have some sort of competition going between them?”

“Based on what?”

“Weight hauled,” Ben said with a wry grin. “You’ll have noticed ’em humping the single packs about? Weighin’ in.”

“No damage, I hope,” Jim said, trying to sound severe, although the whole notion of the competition tickled him. Leave it to the dolphins! Nature’s born humorists. He wished there’d been otters still alive on Earth when the Pern colony was being organized. They, too, had been creatures who knew how to amuse themselves with the strangest objects! He sighed. “We can’t afford to lose anything we’ve been entrusted to get to Kahrain safely.”

“Once we get it all to Kahrain, what happens then, Captain?” Gunnar asked wearily.

“Why then, my hearties, we have time to decide what has to be brought on the fleetest winds and vessels to the north.” There were sufficient groans to cause him to smile reassuringly. “But with more leisure available to make choices.”

“It’s a fair ol’ haul to the place they’ve chosen in the north,” Anders Sejby said in a neutral tone. He was a big man, phlegmatic in temperament, but astonishingly agile physically. He had big hands, big feet, broad shoulders, and solid legs that threatened to burst the seams of his waterproofed trousers. He tended to go bare-chested, and barefooted, but there wasn’t a mariner on the planet that wouldn’t sail anywhere with him, Jim Tillek included. “Any sort of a pier there? Or do we have to lighter stuff in from the bigger ships?”

Jim gave him a blank stare. “I dunno. I’ll find out.”

“You mean,” asked Ben, who fired up easily, “we’re busting our nuts doing all this and we’ve got to—”

Jim held up his hand to stem Ben’s indignant protest. “All will be prepared for us there.”

“Bet it wasn’t until you mentioned it,” Ben said sourly.

“Be not of faint heart, Ben,” Jim said, laying his hand in a benedictory fashion on the dolphineer’s salt-encrusted curls. “By the time we get there, we’ll have wharf facilities. The good Admiral Benden solemnly promised me.”

Ben snorted, unrepentant.

“Now,” Jim went on, “let’s sort out what we’ve got to move tomorrow.”

Garben moved first. The warning they received gave them a scant two hours and the advice that everything that could leave Monaco should be gone well before that time limit. Later, no one had any coherent memories of that period. The wharf was a frenzy of activity; still, neither of the bigger ships, the
Cross
or the
Perseus,
was fully loaded when the alarm came. They were sailed far enough out of the projected danger area. If the wharf—and the cargowas left when the eruption was over, they would go back in and finish loading.

Everyone did have memories of Garben’s spectacular eruption, seen at a safe enough distance to be clear of the pyroclastic debris. It was truly awe-inspiring, and immensely heartbreaking, to see the community that they had achieved in such a short time showered with ash and burning missiles, then disappearing behind dense gray clouds.

“Did everyone get out?” Theo called from the waters on the starboard side of the
Cross.

“So we were told,” Jim said. “D’you want to come aboard?”

Theo raised her eyebrows at the already overcrowded sloop.

“Lord, no, Jim. I’m safer with Dart.” On cue, the dolphin surfaced and pushed her fin against the hand Theo idly circled as she trod water. “See what I mean . . .”

Her voice dwindled as the sleek little dolphin propelled her farther from the ship and Monaco Bay.

At last all but a few damaged loads and other debris had been burned or buried by the beach wardens, and Jim allowed the
Cross,
as the last ship, to leave Monaco Bay.

“What about the bell?” Ben asked just as the gangplank was being pulled up.

Jim paused, squinting up at the bell. “Leave it. The dolphins get such a kick out of ringing it.”

“Even with no one to hear?”

Jim heaved a sigh. “Frankly, Ben, I don’t have the energy right now to dismantle it.” He looked around at the decks crammed with lashed-down pallets. “Hell, where would we put a thing as big as that?” Then he shook his head. “We can come back for it. Ezra’ll be wanting to check the Aivas interface once the volcanoes have settled.” Then he gave the orders to release the lines forward and aft. “Yeah, we’ll get it next trip.”

He did note the sadness on Ben’s face as the bell, and the wharf, receded from sight. Not even the gay escort of two pods of dolphins seemed to cheer the man. Paradise River had become Ben’s real home, and now it would have to be abandoned. A lot more than a bell had been left behind at Landing—and yet the bell seemed to symbolize it all. They sailed on, through the murky, reeking atmosphere that Garben and Picchu had made of the once-clear air of Monaco Bay.

Kahrain was scarcely better organized than the Bay had been, but there were hot baths and decent food available, and a chance to let tired bodies sleep until they were truly rested. The evacuation had gone smoothly enough, thanks to Emily Boll’s foresight. The only casualties had been, unfortunately, one young dragonrider and his bronze dragon, who had collided with a sled—or, as Emily put it in an expressionless voice, attempted to avoid a collision by going
between,
as the fire-lizards did. The young dragon’s instinct had not been sufficient to bring them back from wherever
between
was, and the other young dragonriders were suffering from trauma.

“I told them to take the day off,” she said, clearing her throat authoritatively, ignoring the fact that Sean,
de facto
leader of the dragonriders, had told her in no uncertain terms that he and his group would not be available for work until the next day.

“But the dragon actually went
between
?” Jim asked, amazed.

Emily nodded briskly, blinking against a sudden moisture in her eyes. “I saw . . . Duluth do it. He and Marco were there, midair, one moment, the sled descending on top of them, and then . . . gone!” She cleared her throat again. “So, if we have to find some good out of the tragedy, there it is. The dragons can do what the fire-lizards can. Now, if their riders can now figure out how to do it on a . . . safe, return basis, we may yet have our aerial force.”

“Right now, though, it’s the naval forces we must organize,” Paul said, standing up and lighting the screen of his work terminal. “Fortunately, there’s a good warehouse at Paradise River where we can stash nonvital supplies for later runs.”

“So we do use the small craft again?” Per Pagnesjo, captain of the
Perseus,
asked.

Paul nodded. “For one thing, those sailers are intrinsically valuable in themselves and not just for what we can load on them.” He turned to the dolphineers. “How are your friends standing up to this?”

Theo gave a bark just as Ben snorted. “It’s a nice new game we’ve figured out for them,” Theo answered.

“Glad someone’s finding some enjoyment out of all this,” Paul said with a grim smile.

“Trust dolphins for that,” Theo said. Her genuine grin turned Paul’s into one less strained. “Well, we don’t need to rush so much to get to Paradise, do we? That’ll make it easier and safer.”

“We’ll have to use personnel who are not slated for the next Threadfall, though,” Paul added, switching his terminal to another setting. “We had to let Maori Lake take its chances, but we’ve got to keep Thread burrows to a minimum.”

“Even if we’re abandoning the southern continent?” Theo asked.

“We’re not
abandoning
the continent, nor entirely removing everyone,” Paul said. “Drake wants to continue; so do the Gallianis, the Logorides; and the Seminole, Key Largo, and Ierne Island groups. Tarvi’s keeping the mines and the smelters going. Since they work underground or in the cement block sheds, they’re reasonably safe from Thread, though food resources may have to be augmented from our supplies.”

“They may have to come north in the end, if we can’t supply them from our stores,” Emily said sadly.

“So . . .” Paul said, briskly bringing the meeting back to the matter at hand. “Joel’s got some imperative supplies that ought to be shifted immediately north. Kaarvan, your ship has the biggest capacity: Can you undertake that voyage while the other ships redistribute loads and follow when laden? Desi, can you give him a hand with the manifests?”

“If I get my crew to it now, we can shift and reload cargo and be ready to sail by the evening tide,” Kaarvan replied with a nod, and left without further comment.

“Desi, I want manifests of every crate and carton you take, red and orange,” Joel Lilienkamp shouted after his assistant, and received a backhanded wave. “How”—Joel turned to the others, hands upraised in helpless resignation—”are we going to keep track of what is where and . . . everything.”

For the first time since Jim Tillek had known the able commissary chief, he saw the energetic man at a loss, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the task. Joel had had everything so neatly cataloged and organized at Landing: he had always known exactly on what shelf in what building any particular item was stored. But even his legendary eidetic memory would be unable to cope with the present confusion. Jim felt a deep sympathy for Joel.

“Joel,” Emily said firmly but somehow soothingly, “no one but you could have pulled off such a comprehensive evacuation of goods and people.”

Perhaps only Jim noticed the order of importance implied in her compliment, and he rubbed his face to hide an appreciative grin. In Joel’s lexicon, people could take care of themselves, but goods had to be taken care of, and their location should be known at any time of day or night.

Joel shrugged. “It’s what’ll happen now that deeply concerns me. There’re materials we have got to have immediate access to, and unless I have the records of all the loads that went out of Landing by sled, as well as those taken by boat from Monaco . . .”

At that point, Johnny Greene came in, looking jaded but also gloating. “Don’t anyone ever say ‘it can’t be done’ in my presence,” he announced to all. Joel perked up expectantly as Johnny went on. “Got generators up and running, and ten terminals. Programmed to take visual, audio, or recorder inputs and then correlate. Will that do you for now, Joel?”

“It most certainly will.” Joel bounced to his feet as if he hadn’t just been in the depths of despondency. “Where’ve you got them set up? Lead me.” He got as far as the shelter door before he turned back. “I’ll need personnel.”

“Whoever isn’t doing something else I hereby authorize you to draft until those records are transferred,” Paul said with a chuckle. But his amusement died as he turned back to his own screens, pursing his lips with two fingers. “We still have some pretty hairy problems. Ezra, can you also put back on your captain’s hat? We’ll have to take the smaller craft along the shoreline all the way to Key Largo before we make a final dash across to the northern continent. I can’t see any other way of getting all the people and matériel there. One vast convoy, with dolphin support, keeping one of the bigger ships as guardian, while the others make straight journeys from Kahrain or Paradise to the Fort?”

“Let’s also count on shifting the convoy guard ship now and again,” Jim said after exchanging a quick glance with Ezra. “Even with decent weather—and that eruption’s going to mess weather patterns past the predictable point—it’s going to be some safari.”

“But can it be done?” Paul asked.

Jim twisted one shoulder. “We got here. We’ll get there. Sooner or later.”

“It’s the later that worries me,” Paul responded.

Jim hauled his recorder out of his pocket and tapped out a query. “Well, let’s just see what we can do, Paul.” He peered down at Benden quizzically. “You and Em will go north”—he grinned in lazy irony—“to prepare a place for us . . . so d’you want to be admiral of the Pernese Navy, Ez, or do I get the short straw this time?”

“Let’s stick to being captains and working as a team as we usually do,” Ezra replied in his dry fashion, but he clamped an affectionate hand on Jim’s shoulder as he peered over at the recorder’s data.

“Not all the stuff’s been lifted out of Landing yet,” Joel said, poking his head in through the door. “I’m organizing all available sleds to bring up the last. Can I get the dra—”

Emily held up her hand. “They’ll be back on line tomorrow, Joel!”

Joel scrunched his eyes shut and grimaced. “Sorry. Tomorrow’ll be good enough.” And he was gone again.

“There was a fleet like this once before,” Jim said to Theo Force, who was the dolphineer on duty at the time the
Southern Cross
was leading the way out of Kahrain Cove.

“Like that?” Theo jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the strung-out line of ill-assorted vessels. Dressed in her body wet suit, breather flung over one shoulder to be ready for use instantly, she had stretched out her strong tanned legs on her side of the cockpit. Jim had an eye for a shapely leg, even one generally showing scars from many brushes with underwater obstacles. He was also becoming accustomed to Theo’s subtly attractive face. Well into her third decade, she was not a conventionally pretty woman, but her rather plain features nevertheless indicated her strong character and purposefulness.

“Yup, something like the odd-bods fleet we have here,” Jim said, squinting at the way the mainsail was filling with a wind that was more capricious than he liked for the beginning of this bizarre escort duty. “Long time back now, but one of those bright moments in human history when people rise to an almost impossible challenge.”