"Sizable place all right enough," F'lessan said, kicking at some rubble. "Xanadu, huh!" He turned back to the main building, snagging a ripe redfruit from a hanging limb as he walked. Chewing the juicy fruit, he contemplated the prospect of sea and distant shore that the original inhabitants must surely have enjoyed. Magnificent! If there hadn't been Thread to worry about, it would have been an endlessly beautiful vista. "We've another place to investigate, Golanth," he said abruptly, throwing off a sense of regret on behalf of those long-dead holders.
He asked Golanth to wheel over the site so that he could imprint the details in his mind for future visits. If-no, F'lessan corrected himself defiantly, when Pernese skies were Threadfree, this would be an admirable situation for an open-air weyr.
Golanth caught an updraft that put them quickly back into the westerly current. They had a long way still to go. Shielding his eyes, F'lessan glanced at the lowering sun and then, berating himself for his forgetfulness, looked at his wristwatch. Four more hours until dusk. Not that flying at night bothered Golanth, nor would it be the first night F'lessan had curled up in a bed made by his dragon's forepaws, but if they didn't hurry, F'lessan wouldn't see what he had flown all this way to lay his eyes on.
They flew onward, Golanth's wings tirelessly carrying them, until the great Southern barrier range developed from a pale lavender smudge to vast purplish blue massifs, dominating the horizon.
Bi-i-ig- F'lessan drawled the adjective-mountains! Higher than anything we have in the North until you reach the Icy Wastes.
The air would be very thin up there, Golanth observed. Will we have to cross them?
I don't think so. F'lessan rummaged in his jacket pocket for the map Aivas had printed out for him. It flapped so badly in the wind of their passage that he had trouble reading it. No, this Honshu holding is in ,the foothills below the real range. We're just not close enough to distinguish them.
The last of the brilliant sunset illuminated the general area of their destination. Only because sharp-eyed Golanth saw a line of herdbeasts ambling through a wide doorway in the foot of the cliff did they locate Honshu.
Are you sure you saw what you said you saw? F'lessan asked in surprise. Surely they would have taken their beasts with them when they left.
Maybe wild ones found the way into a place of safety, Golanth suggested. Speeding up his wing strokes, he reached the foot of the sheer cliff just as the last of sunset drained from western skies.
There was no mistaking the wide track worn smooth by usage that led to the cliff face and through a wide entrance angled into the cliff. Peering inside, F'lessan coughed at the stench of the place. High in the walls, window slits did not give him light enough to see much-and the smell alone was enough to discourage investigation. The herdbeasts bawled in surprise at his entrance and milled anxiously deeper into what he guessed was an immense cavern. Choking and with eyes streaming from the intense ammoniac smell, F'lessan backed out. Leaning against the cliff, he breathed deeply of the fresh evening air.
"Looks like you found me Honshu, Golanth," he said, running his hand up the beasthold entrance. "This was cut as neatly as a hot knife in cheese. Just like Fort Hold and the Weyr-when the ancients still had power for their stonecutters. So this has to be Honshu." His fingers also located a door, neatly retracted into the wall. "They left the door wide open, after all. Well, Golanth, let's find us a place to camp for the night. A fire would be right cheerful on a black night like this. I don't know if those big felines Sharra and Piemur talked about range this far south, but..."
No feline would challenge me!
"Not one who wishes to see tomorrow," F'lessan said with a laugh as he peered into the dark for someplace to settle down.
Follow me, Golanth said, and ambled to the left of the cliff face.
"You're better than a torch." F'lessan followed, taking care not to tread on his dragon's tail.
Dead wood was easy enough to find, and rocks to contain a fire, so very shortly F'lessan was comfortably settled against Golanth's shoulder, munching on his travel rations and sipping some Benden wine he had talked Manora into putting in his bottle. Then, because there was little else to do, F'lessan unrolled the fur that padded Golanth's neck ridge, nestled himself snugly between Golanth's forelimbs, and went to sleep.
He woke up just as the eastern skies were brightening. Enough embers remained from his fire to be coaxed back into sufficient warmth to allow him to heat his morning klah and break his fast with a warm meatroll. Golanth ambled down to the river and drank deeply.
This will be a good place to swim-once the sun is up, he said with the air of an expert. And the cliff a good place to warm after a swim. The sun will catch the stone and radiate heat.
F'lessan grinned as he sipped his hot klah. You have been learning a thing or two from listening.
Only the things that make sense to me.
Then F'lessan heard the low bleating and moaning of the animals sheltering in the hold.
Stay there, Golanth, or the animals won't come out, and I want to investigate this place.
I don't mind if I do, Golanth replied equably, but they have nothing to fear for I am not hungry yet.
Somehow I doubt they'd believe you, dear heart. F'lessan made a second cup of klah and then kicked dirt and gravel over his little fire lest the smell of burning wood alarm the beasts.
He did not have long to wait. Once the sunlight hit the entrance, the animals-which proved to be of more than one species of herdbeast-began to file out, ready for a day's browsing or grazing. Most of those had younglings at foot. Not stirring a muscle, F'lessan watched the exodus. Only when all had made their way down the track, spreading out on their separate ways, did the bronze rider approach the opening.
"Faugh!" The reek still discouraged F'lessan from entering-the dung had accumulated to the level of mid-thigh in some places. Holding his breath, he stuck his head in. The cavern was huge, as far as he could tell in the patches of early-morning light that filtered in through the high windows. It was then that he noticed a flight of steps to his right.
Golanth! I'm going in. There're steps here. Drawing his collar across his nose and mouth, F'lessan darted toward the steps and ran up to the first landing, where he stopped. There, to his right, was a large door that had once been secured by a lock, now a rusted shell that fell into dust at his touch. He pushed open the door and stood on another landing, from which steps led down to a large, high-ceilinged room. Window slits let in barely enough light to make out a bulky object, half a dragon length in size, which appeared to be covered.
I've found some sort of an ancient artifact! he told Golanth as he took the steps two at a time in his excitement.
The covering was of ancient manufacture, soapy and slick to the touch once he brushed aside the film of dust that had turned a bright green fabric to gray. Flipping a corner up, F'lessan peered at the unmistakable prow of a vehicle. Struggling to uncover more of the incredible object, F'lessan recognized it from some of the tapes Aivas had shown them as a sled, one of the larger sort.
Just wait till Master Fandarel and Benelek see this thing, Golanth! They'll go spare! F'lessan crowed with delight and anticipation at the stir this beauty would cause. He rolled more of the cover back, noticing how carefully the craft had been stored by its owners and wondering why they had left it behind. No more fuel to fly it, probably.
It's a cumbersome-looking thing, Golanth remarked.
Don't worry, love, I d never trade you in for one of these. Cranky things from what the records tell us. Always needing to be serviced and have parts replaced. Don't have that worry with a dragon. F'lessan laughed heartily at the thought of the Smithcrafters swarming over the sled-for all the good it would do them. Still, it was quite a relic to find lovingly stored away. So few of the settlers' everyday implements had been discovered. Then he noticed the racks of dust-shrouded tools on the wall, a pile of empty plastic sacks such as the settlers had used to store all manner of items, and, under la
yers of fine dust, plastic containers in the settlers' favorite bright colors.
Well, when I tell Aivas what we've found, he won't be so upset, F'lessan added. So I d better survey the whole place for a complete report. Aivas respects complete reports.
Then he bounded up the steps to the landing and proceeded on upward. He noticed that there were piles of dung on some of the steps and muddy hoof marks that, fortunately, ended at another closed door.
This one slid back into the wall-not without some grunting and shoving on F'lessan's part. Having achieved a wide-enough gap to squeeze through, he stepped onto yet another landing, with stairs leading down to a huge cavern-a workroom, to judge by the variety of tables and cabinets. Slightly amazed, he identified both a forge and a huge kiln, as well as workbenches. And there he saw his first signs of a hurried departure, for some cabinet drawers were half out of their slides and there were odd cartons, not quite lidded shut, on three work surfaces. He didn't go down to investigate further, for yet another flight of stairs led up to a higher level.
I'm moving up in the world, Golanth, with more marvels to report to Aivas. Oooowhee, but this place is a treasure trove. The people may have left, but for once they didn't take much with them. Robinton and Lytol are going to be fascinated!
Golanth's response was a deep grunt that echoed in F'lessan's ears; laughing at his dragon's lack of enthusiasm, the bronze rider galloped eagerly up the steps.
Nor was F'lessan disappointed. The door on this level opened onto what had to be the main entry to the hold. Through a graceful archway, he could see into what must have been the central living area. For the first time, he felt like an intruder as he stepped into the immense room, and he stopped in the doorway. He heard the slither of tunnel snakes, retreating from his presence. Peering into the room, he could distinguish little beyond shrouded forms in the darkness, but he could see the thin lines of light around window apertures.
Retracing his steps to the hall, he threw open the wide double leaves of the main door, blinking at the brilliance of the early-morning sun. The hold faced northeast, as a southern hold should, and an early breeze ruffled the thick cushion of dust on the floor. With that light to help him, he found the windows, which were set far above his head; he also found the long pole that opened them. He had opened five of the ten large windows before his eyes fell on the space above them.
Golanth! You should see this! It's amazing!
See what? Where are you now? Is there room for me?
"I-th-think so." F'lessan heard his own stammer echo back from the vaulted ceiling, a ceiling that had been decorated in brilliantly colored murals that had lost nothing of their brightness. And he now knew part of the story they depicted. "This ought to shut up the doubters-an independent verification of what Aivas told us!" he murmured, more to himself than to Golanth, as he gave the walls a fleeting glance before beginning a more studied perusal. So involved did he become with the mural scenes that it took him a moment to realize that the scrabbling noise he heard was Golanth's claws on stone.
This door is not wide enough for me, Golanth said, sounding distinctly annoyed. F'lessan glanced around and stifled a guffaw. Golanth had got head and neck through the opening, but not his massive shoulders.
"You're not stuck, are you?" the bronze rider asked solicitously.
They could have made the door a little bit higher and wider, since they made it as big us they did.
"I don't really think they had dragons of your size in mind when they built it, Golanth. But can you see the murals? There's even a scene about dragons-right overhead. Oh, you can't quite see it, but these murals are amazing. There are panels for every major event-" F'lessan pointed out the appropriate panels as he explained. "The actual landing in the shuttle craft; the ones in Ship Meadow; and yes, there are sleds just like the one down below; and the building of holds, and people working the land, and then Thread. They did that panel too graphically. Turns my stomach just to look at it. They've got lots of sleds, and smaller craft, and flamethrowers and-ah, high up in the ceiling, they've even got Rukbat and all its planets. If only we'd found this place a long time ago..." F'lessan was silent a long moment, his eyes moving from one beautifully painted panel to the next. "They'll all want to see this place," he said at length with infinite satisfaction. "We did good, Golanth, dear heart. And we were first here!"
He looked around one last time, deciding not to investigate further so that others might have the pleasure of seeing the place as it had been left. Then he carefully closed the windows.
Golanth, crammed into the doorway, had been trying to see what he could. As F'lessan approached him, he carefully backed out onto the broad shelf that jutted out from that level. F'lessan closed the doors behind him, marveling at the workmanship that allowed the heavy metal to pivot so easily after so many centuries of disuse. He gazed up at the sweep of the hold: three more levels of windows were visible.
"Neither weyr nor hold but it would serve," F'lessan said, remembering the point of his search. "That is, once the artifacters and Craftmasters get their look-in."
Dragons would find this spot eminently suitable, F'lessan, Golanth assured him. There is the river, which is deep, clear, and tasty to drink, and there are many ledges that face the sun all the day long. The bronze dragon swung his head to left and right to bring those places to F'lessan's notice. This would make a very good Weyr indeed.
"And so we shall report."
12
THE DISCOVERY OF Honshu was partially eclipsed by S'len's discovery of eighteen usable space suits in the Yokohama EVA ready room. In Master Robinton's opinion, Aivas had received that news with a great deal more excitement than he had displayed when hearing about Honshu's state of preservation. Aivas said that the suits gave his schedule considerably more flexibility and dispensed with some rather awkward and possibly dangerous alternatives. However, some folk in the Smithcraft, and many in the Harper Hall, considered Honshu the more important, and certainly more immediately useful, discovery.
While Aivas was revising his plan, Jancis and Hamian were appointed by Master Fandarel to inventory the tools at Honshu and, if their use was not immediately apparent, to decide what function they had had. Aivas did take time to print out a manual for the sled, out of respect for the keen interest shown, but added the qualifier that any such investigations were esoteric since he could give no assistance in powering it. That provoked some resentment in those who felt that aerial transportation should not be restricted to dragonriders and "a chosen few."
Aivas's rebuttal to that accusation was to enumerate all the skills and technological improvements-which most of those same complainants objected to in theory-that would be necessary to produce powered aerial vehicles, including the development of an alternative and reliable power source.
"The settlers used power packs," Aivas reminded them. The subject had arisen before. "These units were rechargeable, but no recharging mechanism survived."
"But can't you tell us how to make the power packs?"
"There are two kinds of science," Aivas began in his oblique fashion. "Practical and theoretical. With practical, engineers use only what is known-and proved to work in the everyday world-to achieve certain predicted and predictable results. Theoretical science, on the other hand, pushes at the boundaries and laws that are known to work-and sometimes even steps outside of them. For the projects you have been working on, you already had enough background and know-how to learn the necessary science to follow my instructions. But for some things-such as the alien power packs-Pern, simply has not the technology or the science to understand the theories well enough to apply them practically."
"In other words, we're stuck with this world and what's in it?" Jaxom asked.
"Precisely. And it is up to you to work this out for yourself, or to gain help from Lytol rather than from this facility."
And that was as much time as Aivas would spend on Honshu. With additional space suits available, he initiated new projects, wh
ich, it was made clear, were much closer to the major task at hand: the destruction of Thread.
Now that the life-support systems on the Bahrain and the Buenos Aires were fully operational, Mirrim and S'len were sent on their green dragons to make the necessary links between the bridge consoles on the two smaller ships and the Yokohama link with Aivas. The Bahrain and the Buenos Aires had, however, sustained more damage over the centuries than the Yokohama, losing antennae, exterior optics, and considerable areas of the outside skin from impacts that the shields had been unable to deflect. But that damage, Aivas was quick to state, would not interfere with the Plan.
Terry, Wansor, three of the Glass-smith's brightest journeymen, and Perschar, the artist, were ferried up by green dragons for long sessions on the Yokohama's telescope, mapping the Red Star for any distinctive features. The vid-link down to Aivas was still imperfect; Aivas had been unable to discover the problem and so had to rely on human observations. They soon reported to Aivas that only one side of the planet was turned toward them. Perschar was to do large reproductions of whatever geographic features the surface of the eccentric planet presented. Wansor had to be peeled away from the console, so exhausted by his lengthy efforts that he actually fell asleep between on the return trip.
Teams made up of green and bronze riders-all transported by the smaller green dragons-explored the deserted levels of the Yokohama in case anything else had been left behind. But the ancients had stripped an amazing amount of material from the ship. The space suits-and the banks of coldsleep capsules-were all that had been deemed useless on the surface.
Then a team of Mastersmiths was sent to all three ships, starting with the Yokohama, so that all four could familiarize themselves with the cargo bays and engine rooms. The four-Fandarel, Belterac, Evan, and Jancis-were fascinated by the ship's construction, pausing to examine the way struts had been secured, how walls, ceilings and floors had been fitted into the skeleton of the ship. It was difficult for them to assimilate the fact that the Yokohama had been assembled in space at one of the old Earth's gigantic satellite shipyards, and that the heaviest portions had been pushed into position by single workers with computer-controlled machines.
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