All The Weyrs of Pern

19

Aivas had explained to Fandarel and Bendarek exactly how to alter and reinforce the HN03 tanks that were to corrode the metal casing of the antimatter engines. Fandarel followed his instructions, though he thought that the tolerance needed on the alloy of the tanks as well as the padding seemed redundant. He did enjoy constructing the gauges and the nozzles that would let the agenothree drop on the engine casing.

"A slow process, to be sure, but the rate of penetration can be measured and monitored," Aivas told the Smithcraftmaster. "The safety factors built into the great star-crossing engines were immensely sophisticated. The construction data are not available to discover a more efficient way of broaching the antimatter suspension, so this crude method is the only option. Sometimes the simple solutions are best. Therefore, it is prudent to allow a wide window, which has been calculated as two weeks, give or take a few days. By the time the dragonriders transfer the engines to their positions, the corrosion should have penetrated almost to the antimatter capsule."

"Now, look here, Aivas," Fandarel began. "I know the rate at which agenothree corrodes metal-"

"Not metal such as the builders of this ship used, Master Fandarel."

"That's so." Fandarel scrubbed at his close-cropped scalp. "What puzzles me is the amount of agenothree required to reach the antimatter material."

"As has been explained"-a diagram appeared on the monitor in the engineering section: a massive block surrounding a ridiculously small cube in a slightly larger sphere-"the antimatter material is not a large mass, approximately two hundred grams. Even the suspension unit masses only about fifteen hundred kilograms."

"Frankly, Aivas, that's what perplexes me. How could two hundred grams of anything power a ship the size of the Yokohama through space?"

"Do you not appreciate efficiency, Master Fandarel?" Aivas asked in reply, in a tone that could have been interpreted as amused. Fandarel often had the feeling that the machine was amused. "The matter/antimatter engine is the quintessence of efficiency. Only a small amount is ever required."

"With two hundred grams of black powder or even nitro, one cannot explode very much," Fandarel replied.

"Do not equate black powder or nitro, or anything used in mining operations, with antimatter on any count. There is no comparison to the explosive energy released. Despite the distance involved, you will be able to see the flash of the explosion with an ordinary telescope when the antimatter explodes on the Red Star. You would see no trace of an explosion using two hundred grams of black powder, or even nitro. You must be assured that this facility does comprehend the power that is to be discharged."

Fandarel continued to scratch his pate in wonderment, nodding as he tried to accept what Aivas had said.

"You are an excellent craftsman, Master Fandarel, and have advanced at an astonishing pace in the past four years and nine months. Since antimatter, unlike the atom that you have recently been investigating, cannot be studied in laboratory situations, you must rely on explanations. It cannot be exposed to matter as you know it-ore, earth, gases, water. Antimatter can be contained, as it is in the ship's engine, and, with control, become the most efficient source of power Mankind has at its disposal. At this point in your study of physics, you cannot understand these concepts. But you can use them to your advantage-with proper guidance, techniques known to this facility, and the safeguards that have already been explained to you. As you pursue your studies, you will come to understand even the anomalies of antimatter. But not now. Time becomes a critical factor. The Red Planet must be jarred out of its current orbit just where it will later approach the fifth planet of your system.

"Do you have the couplings to attach the HN03 tanks to the engine blocks?"

"Yes," Fandarel said with a sigh, and indicated the metal braces and T-junction that he and his best smiths had built to hold the tanks tightly against the engines in a way that would allow the corrosive material to leak onto the metal in a regulated flow.

"Then you should proceed to install the tanks as indicated." The screen altered to show a new diagram.

"I could do it in my sleep," Bendarek muttered.

"It would be unwise to fall asleep in space, Journeyman Bendarek," Aivas replied immediately.

Bendarek grimaced and shot Fandarel an apologetic glance.

"You will remember to use tether lines while you are EVA," Aivas continued. "F'lessan and his bronze dragon are in the cargo bay in case of an emergency."

Gathering up their bundles, Fandarel and Bendarek made their way to Airlock E-7, nearest the engine shaft. The bulky agenothree tanks, the largest that Fandarel had ever manufactured, ringed the wall of the lock where the rest of the work detail awaited them, all suited up except for helmets. When Fandarel and Bendarek were ready, helmets were donned and secured, each member of the six-man team checking his mate's tank, fastening, and safety lines.

At Fandarel's nod, Bendarek cycled the airlock closed and then opened the outer door. Evan and Belterac took one tank, while Silton and Fosdak took the second. Bendarek handed out the couplers to the other journeyman, checking that each had the tools that would be required. Fandarel swung himself out onto the catwalk that led from the hatch to the great engine shaft.

Big as the Mastersmith was, he was dwarfed to insignificance by the immensity of the metal mass that contained the so-efficient two hundred grams of antimatter. For once in his life, Fandarel felt inadequate as he made his lumbering way: a grain of sand beside a dune. However, there was work to be done, for which he was quite capable, so he suppressed the comparison and, without looking back, gestured for Evan and Belterac to follow him. Pern was spread out below them, and with an accustomed glance, he located the odd pimples that were the Landing volcanoes. It comforted him in the grandeur of space to be able to identify something he knew. He proceeded, feeling the vibration in the walkway as others set foot upon it.

They all had EVA time, were accustomed to moving in freefall, and were all aware of yet fascinated by the inherent dangers of the new environment. To Fandarel's surprise, Terry, who had been his second hand for so long, could not handle the vastness of space, or even the lack of gravity, though he had never minded going a-dragonback. Still, Master Fandarel thought, space was a different medium altogether than between and just as hostile as Aivas told them. There had been those one or two-well, actually five-mishaps, Fandarel had to admit. Fortunately there had been dragons about, and the men who had inadvertently loosened their safety lines, had been hauled back to the Yokohama. Belterac was the only one who had overcome fear of a repetition and continued that exercise. But Belterac was phlegmatic by nature.

At last Fandarel's gloved right hand touched the access ladder, which was crafted as a recess into the metal side of the engine shaft, complete with safety-line rail. Beyond his reach, by half a length, were the long, rounded spars to which cargo pods had been attached during the Yokohama's long journey from Earth to Pern. When it came time to move the engines to the Red Star, the dragons, wearing special gloves to protect their flesh from the lacerating cold of the metal, would grip these spars and carry the engine between. Aivas, Fandarel knew, still entertained doubts that the dragons, even several hundred of them working together, could move such a mass. He thought that if they must have faith that what Aivas told them was true, Aivas should return the compliment. Fandarel caught a glimpse of Evan and Belterac behind him; then, clipping his line to the safety rail and placing his hands on the rungs, he pulled himself up.

It was a long way up. When he reached the top of the engine block, it was wide enough for five dragons to stand tail to nose. The length of it vas four times its width. Fandarel was still not accustomed to thinking in such colossal measurements.

With Aivas's diagram firmly in mind, he stepped carefully to where the tanks were to be positioned, nozzles end to end and joined by the junction that would permit their contents to drip relentlessly into the metal. The waste of all that incredible metal distressed Fandarel, especially after Aivas insisted that they did not have some of the basic raw materials on Pern to reproduce such an alloy. He contented himself with the knowledge that he had seen it, felt it, and yes, even destroyed it. There was nearly as much destruction in smithing as there was creation.

Bendarek and Fosdak had stayed below to attach the hoist cables to the tanks. When those on top had adjusted their lines, they were secure enough to haul the tanks up without drifting off in the effort. The team had been well drilled, and soon the tanks were up, then pressed down so that the ingenious suction cups would keep the tanks firmly in place until the special glue set. The couplings were attached, and the junction installed. Finally the black solar panels were clipped on, so that the agenothree would not freeze, or boil, during the operation. Then Bendarek ceremoniously handed Master Fandarel the spanner to open the plastic nozzles and release the corrosive agenothree.

"One down, two to go," Fosdak said in his usual impudent manner.

"And we will all be careful going down that ladder," Fandarel said, relieved that there had been no mishap. Efficiency was safety, he reminded himself.

He motioned for the others to precede him and checked the gauges that would indicate the amount of agenothree in each tank. There was, of course, no change in the amount yet, but it was second nature for Fandarel to check.

"I know, I know," Hamian said irritably, using both hands to push sweaty hair off his face. He regarded F'lar levelly. Hamian was stripped to work pants in the heat that was part of his discomfort. The major dissatisfaction was the plastic material that he, Zurg, Jancis, and a half hundred other journeymen and Masters of a variety of Crafts were trying to produce in sufficient quantities-and quality-to protect the dragonriders in their epic endeavor.

While the plastic he had produced, using Aivas's formula, was pliable and tough as an outside layer, the filling and cotton lining made assembly difficult. Since the plastic outer skin of the space suits had to be airtight, it could not be sewn. Hamian had been experimenting with glues of every sort, trying to find one that would not become brittle in space and that bonded all three layers. He could not recall now how many suits he had sent up to the Yokohama to be tested.

The dragon gloves had been relatively easy in comparison, even if dragon feet differed in length and width as much as human feet did. Still the production of over three hundred pairs had taken some of his work force several months.

"Yes, I know that time is catching up with us, F'lar, but we're working flat out. We've got one hundred and seventy-two finished and tested." He held his hands in a gesture of resignation.

"No one can fault you for trying," F'lar said.

"Look," Jaxom said in a placatory manner, "if worse comes to worst, we can send the engines in three sections. There should be enough variety of sizes so that the suits can be swapped over."

F'lar frowned, not liking that alternative.

"Well, it's a suggestion," Jaxom said. "It would take the pressure off Hamian."

"But this was to be a joint effort..."

"You know as well as I do, F'lar, that there's a wide window available," Jaxom said, arguing as subtly as he could so that F'lar would not realize that Aivas intended that there be only two hundred suits. Jaxom hated the necessity of manipulating his best friends, but it was essential if he was to bring off Aivas's plan. He didn't like it any better than F'lar did, but he had come to realize that Aivas was not all that confident about the dragons' abilities. The zebedees were a slower way of destroying Thread, but a second option seemed prudent. "It isn't as if the engines have to be deposited at the same instant."

"No, that's true," F'lar said, absently blotting the sweat off his forehead.

"How long does it take us to shuck space suits now? Half an hour at most, between the two lifts. Hamian needs only to get another twenty-more if at all possible, of course, Hamian, but we've almost enough as it is."

"And time's running out," Hamian said, some of the tension easing from his face and body. He had not liked to fail in this project, but so much time had been spent in little details that no one had considered when they had blithely started. "Everything takes longer and costs more. Shells! but I hate to fall down on you."

"Who said you had?" Jaxom demanded. "You've got enough kits to do the job right now."

F'lar regarded Jaxom with faint surprise. Jaxom knew that he had just usurped some of F'lar's prerogative, so he smiled as ingratiatingly as he could, giving a slight shrug.

"Yes, as you say, Jaxom, there are enough suits to do the job right now if riders trade off," F'lar agreed.

"Well, then," Hamian said, radiating relief, "I can take time for a bite to eat. Join me?" He gestured toward the trestle table set under an awning. Some of his large teams were already serving themselves, for meals were taken whenever there was time. "There's always enough in the pot for dragonriders."

Although Jaxom knew that F'lar was scrutinizing him all during the meal he pretended not to notice. He intended to have a few private words with Aivas about easing up on Hamian. The man was trying-and could have no idea that Aivas was deliberately rejecting space gear that was probably suitable in all respects. Two hundred finished and acceptable units-and no more-would solve Jaxom's travel problems.

Although Landing bore the brunt of the preparations for the final assault on Thread, there was excitement throughout the planet as the days of the last month were ticked off.

Oldive and Sharra had drafted as many healers as possible and then, at Master Nicat's suggestion, some of the gem cutters who were accustomed to the use of magnifying glasses and small tools. Efforts to find the most effective "disimprover" for the Thread spring were redoubled. Many parasites of the Thread ovoids had been found, and many of those had been infected with a variety of "viruses." While some of the "disimproved" forms had adverse effects on the Thread, none had produced virulent enough reactions, according to Aivas. Massive reproduction had to take place, with the chosen virus-changed to a more parasitic form-able to replicate itself using the material within the ovoid.

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 lifeform, 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?

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 gust 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 fixture 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 HN03 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.

"What's holding up N'ton's wings?" Fandarel asked, relieved to see Jaxom. "That was a splendid sight, Jaxom, watching all those dragons lifting the engines like they were so many fire-stone sacks. Aivas has informed us that all went well." Fandarel looked concerned. "Why isn't N'ton here?"

"Because no one thought to keep helmet and body suit together," Jaxom said. Then he realized that he should also appear concerned and managed a frown. "I don't think it's going to matter in the long run," he added thoughtfully as he made his way to the nearest console. "Aivas, there is going to be a delay. Helmets weren't kept with suits, and they've got to match."

"That could be inconvenient if the delay is prolonged," Aivas said.

"It's three-quarters of an hour since we went off. How long before N'ton has to have different star-pattern references? It would be disastrous if he arrived at the wrong time and his engine went off either prematurely or too late." If Aivas expected Jaxom to use his wits, he hoped he would see what he was aiming at.

"A consideration to be sure. Reprogramming contingency." The screen altered from the current view of the Buenos Aires engine to rapid shifts of star configurations. "With any lengthy delay, the star picture will be slightly different."

"Is there going to be a problem?" Fandarel asked.

Jaxom smiled reassuringly at the Mastersmith and the others on the bridge, Masterminer Nicat, Master Idarolan, Jancis, and Piemur. Jaxom wished Piemur were not there: they knew each other far too well. "I don't think it's insurmountable. As you heard, Aivas is already programming contingency plans. I'd better inform Lessa and F'lar of the delay."

When he had done that, a call came through from Evan in engineering, patiently waiting to complete the separation. Jaxom was glad it was he, rather than Fosdak, in charge of that task. Fosdak had no patience.

Of all on the three bridges, Jaxom was the only one delighted that it took N'ton and his wings nearly four hours to get suited up. N'ton was usually a calm, easygoing, and relaxed Weyrleader; his patience had been sorely tried by the delays.

Monarth says they're ready. Ramoth says they must get the new configurations from you. Aivas is giving you the new star patterns to memorize and give Monarth. Ruth delivered the various messages just as the new configurations came up on the monitor. They were, as Jaxom knew, those for the five-hundred-Turn jump with the Red Star in the same relation to Rukbat at the Eighth Pass. Aivas had made a slight time alteration on those original coordinates, judging by the position of the Wheel and the Plow constellations on the horizon.

"Lessa," Jaxom said, toggling the ship-to-ship link, "I've got the visuals here. I'll give them to N'ton. Can Ramoth tell them to transfer in five more minutes? I have to get Ruth from the cargo bay."

"Just give N'ton the coordinates, Jaxom," Lessa said.

"That's what I intend doing," Jaxom replied mendaciously. "Fandarel, five-minute warning for Evan?"

The smith nodded enthusiastically, for the waiting had made everyone edgy. Waiting, in the smith's lexicon, was inefficient. As Jaxom took the lift to the cargo bay, he wondered if Fandarel ever rested. Here he had completed the most complex and exhausting work of a lifetime and he still fretted over inactivity.

We go? Ruth asked Jaxom, his eyes whirling with excitement.

We don't really have to go, you know, Ruth, Jaxom said. Lessa said we only have to give N'ton the new coordinates... Jaxom chuckled as he saw the disappointment in Ruth's eyes. He mounted and, crowning his head with the helmet, twisted it shut. That will get them there safely enough but... I think you'll make an error and go, too. You feel all right about that?

I have rested, and this is the shorter trip, isn't it?

I hope so. Between the first jump, fretting over how to join N'ton's wings, and the long wait, Jaxom was feeling slightly frayed. He took care not to let Ruth sense that.

Monarth comes! Excitement colored Ruth's tone.

"Fandarel, do you see them?" Jaxom asked through his helmet link.

"Yes, magnificent. I have given Evan the order to separate."

Let's get to the stern, Ruth.

Jaxom took a deep breath, but they flashed between so fast that he had not quite completed the inhalation when Ruth reappeared gripping the stern. Monarth and N'ton were beside them, and below, the bronze dragons of Fort, High Reaches, Telgar, and Ista ranged along the top spars.

Jaxom held the image of where they were going vivid in his mind. Give Monarth and N'ton my compliments and ask Monarth to take our destination from you.

N'ton threw Jaxom a salute, but Jaxom couldn't see the Fort Weyrleader's expression, obscured as it was by his faceplate. He gave N'ton a deferential salute.

Monarth says we go!

They went. The cold of between seemed to penetrate Jaxom's space suit, and he could hear his breath coming raggedly. He forced himself to slow down.

I'm here, Ruth said in encouragement.

As always, Jaxom replied, and continued to count his inhalations. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two.

And then they were hovering inches above the southern tip of the Rift.

Monarth says where's the crater?

Tell him that Aivas picked this spot, so here's where wed better deposit the engine. We don't have time to find that bloody crater!

Jaxom turned toward N'ton, who was looking at him, arms raised in query. Jaxom gave him an exasperated shrug in reply.

Monarth says N'ton understands. They proceed.

N'ton was signaling to the auxiliary dragons to begin their task of sowing the zebedees. Then he turned all his attention to the lowering of the massive engine into the Rift. The maneuver went well, even better than Jaxom's, taking just ten minutes.

N'ton waited another few moments, allowing the dragons a chance to rest. Then he called in the auxiliaries.

I have told Monarth that everyone must return to their own Weyrs. But to keep the right helmets with the right suits this time, Ruth told Jaxom.

We're not likely to need two hundred slightly used space suits again, Jaxom said, trying to contain his elation until they were safely back. We must go back to the Yokohama.

I have told Monarth. N'ton says he is grateful and apologizes for the delay.

Tell him that it all worked out well in the end.

It did, didn't it? Ruth added. Shall we return now?

Please yes!

Once again, the return seemed longer than the outgoing journey, but it wasn't. Finally the comforting dimness of the big cargo bay of the Yokohama surrounded them. And they were immediately attacked by Ramoth and Mnementh.

Where have I been? Ruth exclaimed, rearing back away from Ramoth's savage expression and dodging Mnementh's massive wings. I'm fine. I in fine. So is Jaxom. He didn't tell me not to go!

"Jaxom!" F'lar was bellowing the moment he stepped out of the lift, with Lessa on his heels.

Jaxom loosened his helmet. "So we went, too," he said, raising his voice to top the angry ones of the Benden Weyrleaders. "Ruth's not even a trifle off color. Not his fault. I forgot to tell him not to follow Monarth. But the job is now completely done!" He glared back at F'lar and Lessa and slid down Ruth's side, patting his foreleg. "I could certainly use another pull at that wineskin, Lessa, if you wouldn't mind..."

He spoke with no trace of regret or apology, and he felt rather too battered to bother with the deference the Weyrleaders deserved from him. He undid the first of the suit's fastenings, knowing that they were still angry with him and hoping they would give it up.

"Here, I'll help," F'lar said unexpectedly. "Lessa, this Lord Holder deserves another swallow of that 'sixteen!"

Jaxom gave F'lar a sharp look and then grinned back. By the first Egg, so he had finally come into his own in the cargo bay of the Yokohama.