All The Weyrs of Pern

by Anne McCaffrey

  "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. Ali, 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.