The Chronicles of Pern: First Fall

by Anne McCaffrey

  The medic who had accompanied this section diagnosed twelve with internal injuries and multiple fractures that the limited medical supplies she had couldn’t handle. She had two coronary patients on the only life-support units that could be found in the Cross’s cargo.

  “Can you send a sled for the worst injuries?”

  “Of course. One’s already being loaded with medics and supplies and will fly out to you in the next sixty seconds. Give me your approximate location again.”

  “Somewhat east of Boca but west of Sadrid,” Jim said wearily. “You can’t miss us. The sea’s filled with flotsam and overturned hulls. Has Kaarvan made port?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “The Venturer would be mighty useful to carry salvaged cargo back to Fort, as well as the extra folk who no longer have a ship to sail.”

  “What’s Ezra’s condition?”

  “I haven’t tried reaching him yet. He’s a few days ahead of us and probably missed the storm, or you’d’ve heard from him by now. There’s really no point in sending him back: every one of his ships was loaded to the plimsoll line. His group’ll do better finishing their journey.”

  Someone stopped beside him and handed him a mug of hot klah and a twig-pierced fried fish.

  “And the Cross, Jim?” Ongola asked in genuine concern.

  “Battered but afloat,” Jim said. The mast would have to be replaced, and the mainstays, but he still had all his canvas. Andi had already vowed that his new mast would be the first she’d make: she’d be making many, if they were to sail any ships out of here. “Which reminds me: We got some lightning-burn cases, too. Three of the barges sunk completely, but the dolphins are busy resurrecting cargo. Right now, the injured are my first priority.”

  “As they should be. Ah, yes—” Ongola broke off for a moment. “Joel urgently needs to know if you can estimate how much and what cargo is irretrievable?” Jim caught an indefinable note of regret in Ongola’s voice that indicated he felt such a question was importunate. It was, however, totally in character for Lilienkamp, and Jim was too weary to summon much rancor.

  “Hell, Zi, I haven’t completed a head count! Desi Arthied’s got broken ribs, had to be resuscitated, and Corrie says he probably had a coronary. But do reassure Joel that Desi’s manifest recorder was tucked inside his life vest next to his heart. That ought to cheer him up.” Jim couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “I gotta go.”

  “Help is on its way, Jim. My sympathies. I’ll report immediately to Paul. Is there someone you can keep on the com?”

  Bleary-eyed, Jim looked about him. The able-bodied were tending the injured, but he spotted Eba Dar propped up against a fallen tree, his splinted leg sticking out in front of him. He was chewing the last of a fish from its twig.

  “Eba? You well enough to keep the line open to Fort?” Jim asked, peering into the man’s lacerated face and eyes for signs of concussion. Eba’s naturally sallow skin did not show pallor, and the cuts on his shoulders and chest were already sealed.

  “Sure. Nothing wrong with my mouth and my wits,” Eba said with a droll grin and, tossing the empty twig, reached for the unit. “Who’s on the other end?”

  “At the moment, Zi Ongola. They’re sending a big sled for the serious casualties, and Kaarvan’ll sail the Venturer down to pick up whatever cargo we can save.”

  Eba looked out at a sea once again calm; oddments could be seen bobbing to the surface or floating in on the tide. Soon enough, Jim knew, the shallow beach would be littered, and he would have to find enough people to haul the jetsam safely above the high-water mark. Shielding his eyes with his good hand, he peered seaward where dolphin fins cut from one upturned hull to another, their human partners hanging on to the dorsals, still searching for survivors.

  “Damn her,” he said under his breath as he recognized Dart’s smaller, distinctively marked body and Theo towed alongside. The sealant on those scrapes of hers was probably stinging like hell. Was she mad, driving herself in that condition?

  “Dolphins’re doing great, aren’t they?” Eba remarked. “Wonder if we’d’ve all been safer in the water with them.”

  “The dolphins were okay, but not all their partners,” Jim replied. “Besides, you farmer types couldn’t hold your breath long enough, the way dolphins can.” He gave Eba’s shoulder a squeeze and limped off to see if, this time, he could come up with a more accurate body count. Five people were still unaccounted for, three of them kids. He told himself that everyone had, been wearing life vests: there was some hope to be found in that.

  Eba had not been far from wrong about being safer with the dolphins. Equipped with breathers and able to dive with their aquatic partners beneath the towering waves to escape the pummeling, the dolphineers had been lucky—at least during the squall. Now they risked themselves time and again to rescue unconscious or injured folk. Even before the storm ended, teams had followed sinking ships down to save those trapped on board. Many people owed their lives to the quick action of the dolphin swimmers who had, in some instances, torn off their breathers to give the drowning life-saving oxygen.

  It was during those first few hectic hours after the storm had passed that the dolphineers had received more serious injuries. A distraught Pha had gone so far as to beach himself to get Gunnar Schultz to medical attention for a deep wound in his thigh, sustained when he’d pushed his way into a cabin to free a trapped child. Efram, Ben, and Bernard had been called in to haul Pha by the tail back into the sea, the dolphin squee-eeing and complaining that they’d do him masculine damage.

  By the time the big sled from Fort arrived, Jim knew that, by some incredible miracle, there had been no loss of life. The five missing folk walked in from farther down the beach where their ketch had been stranded: one of the teenage girls had a broken arm, the other a dislocated shoulder, which the newly arrived medics instantly attended. They made the walking wounded sit and sip at restorative “cocktails” that had been mixed and brought along. Some injuries were still life-threatening—two heart attacks and three strokes from exposure and exhaustion—but none that wouldn’t respond to treatment and therapy.

  The dolphins had been able to locate all of the sunken ships, and buoys now marked their positions. Most could be raised, but the three small ships thrown up on the beach by the heavy seas were too badly damaged to be worth repairing. The barges, unwieldy craft at best, had sunk so quickly that they hadn’t been battered by the high waves. Efram with Kibby, Jan with Teresa, and Ben with Amadeus reported that the cargoes were still lashed in place; the barges had been full of low-priority freight, safe enough where it was for now.

  As to cargo, no one paid much attention to what he or she grabbed and hauled into piles well above the high-tide mark: it was enough to keep the jetsam on the beach. Leaning wearily against a waterlogged and battered crate, Jim was on the comunit, calling for more people to help with salvage, when he noticed three of the medics walking toward him.

  “Look, Paul, I’m damned sorry to add this to your problems,” Jim said wearily.

  “It’s not one I expected, certainly,” Paul replied in an odd voice. Jim heard the defeated tone and responded by couching his report in the most optimistic manner he could muster. He rubbed at his face, which was stiff from brine. “Actually, Paul, the way the stuff is floating in on the tide, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we’ll salvage most of it. Some’s too waterlogged to estimate any damage, but generally the packaging held. As to the ships, Andi’s already figuring out repair lists—”

  “No jury rigs, damn it, Jim. You’ve leagues to go yet to reach Key Largo, and Kaarvan told me it’s no picnic crossing the two Currents.”

  “I have no intention of setting sail again until all craft are seaworthy, shipshape, and Bristol fashion, as they used to say.” Jim spoke with all the conviction he could manage, adding that old seaman’s tag to show he was in good spirits.

  He was aware of shadows of the approaching medics lengthening, covering the light from
the westering sun. He turned slightly away from them, not wanting his conversation overheard. “Hell, by that time, all the cargo will have dried out, too. Only a few of the cocooned stuff got torn open. Tomorrow we’ll have dolphin teams start hauling up what was too heavy to surface on its own. You wouldn’t believe what those critters can manage. I’ll report in again later, Paul. Don’t worry about us. Sled brought us all the help we needed.”

  As he closed the comunit, someone cleared a throat. Jim looked up to see Corazon Cervantes, Beth Eagles, and Basil Tomlinson regarding him with amusement.

  “He’s still on his feet,” Corazon remarked to the others.

  Seeing how tired she looked made Jim aware of his own weariness.

  “Only because he’s leaning on that crate,” Beth said in her pragmatic way. She looked tired, too.

  “Old sailors never die, they just fade away,” Basil said in a pontificating voice. “No matter, Theo was right,” he added, pointing. “He’s ricked the gelicast around and split the staples. What’s your opinion, Doctors?”

  “Repair, then bed rest,” Beth said, and before Jim could protest, she pressed a hypo-spray against his arm. As his legs folded and his vision darkened, he heard her add, “You know, I don’t think he realizes when it’s time to take a break.”

  The smell of roasting food roused him, but his body was unwilling to respond to the initial commands he gave it to leave the horizontal position. He was on his back, under a canopy of woven fronds, which was certainly rustically unusual. Under him, however, was an air mattress, and a light cover kept the cool of the shade from chilling him. He made a slight error in judgment by rolling onto his right side, preparatory to rising. The sudden weight on a heavy and awkwardly covered right arm was painful enough to force a groan from his lips.

  “Ah, you’re awake, too, are you?” a voice said from his left.

  He twisted about to see Theo lying beside him. She gave him a cocky grin.

  “You sicced that unholy trio on me,” he accused, not appreciating that justice had similarly immobilized her.

  “Dart informed on me,” she said with a shrug. “So I figured I’d at least see I had decent company in my ward.” In gesturing to their surroundings, she displayed a right arm, marred by four heavily stapled and sealed spiral gashes.

  He reached over and took her hand, gently lowering her arm to her side. “How’d you get those?”

  She glanced in thoughtful surprise at her arm. “I don’t rightly remember. I think we were checking out that five-meter ketch Bruce Olivine sailed. Dart was trying to poke her nose into the for’ard hatch when the whole ship shifted and something snagged me by the arm.”

  “How’re your legs?”

  She kicked one free of the light cover. It, too, glistened with sealant. Dispassionately, she regarded the raw scratched flesh that ran from the top of her thigh to her ankle. The inside of her leg was only bruised. “I used to be better able to squeeze through tight places. Should’ve been okay if I’d had on a full wet suit. It’s only to regrow the skin I lost. But I gather we will spend some time here at our pleasant seaside resort.”

  “Who’s taking charge then?”

  “The medics,” she said with a rude laugh. “Hey, someone!” she called. “We’re hungry in here.”

  “Coming!” a cheerful voice answered.

  Jim groaned again as he levered himself up.

  “Hey, they are coming,” Theo said in alarm. She sat up as he headed toward the thick shrubbery behind their temporary accommodation. “Oh! Always did think you guys had the best of the deal in circumstances like this.”

  That short but critically necessary excursion proved to Jim Tillek that he had less strength than the fronds bowing to the light wind. It was going to take more time than he had to spare to recover from yesterday’s excursions.

  “Yesterday’s?” Theo laughed lustily, making him aware that he had spoken aloud. “Jim, m’lad, you’ve been out for the full thirty-six. Today’s the day after yesterday.”

  “My God, then who’s . . .”

  She grabbed his hand and gave one pull: sufficient to make his weak knees buckle. The air mattress cushioned his sudden descent, but the jolt reminded him that he had other injuries as well as the broken arm. “Paul sent another sled, with plenty of people to muscle the salvage and a team of Joel’s apprentices to run bar codes through their recorders. Where there are bar-code patches left, that is.”

  Jim groaned just as the obscuring foliage was pushed aside and Betty Musgrave arrived with a laden tray, which she set in the space between them.

  “Hi, feel better, Jim? Theo?” she said with none of the forced cheerfulness that Jim would have found egregious.

  “He’s had a nice long sleep and a nice long—” Theo chuckled as Jim’s half growl cut off the rest of her sentence.

  “Good, everyone’ll be glad to hear that,” Betty said with genuine relief. “And I won’t have to ditch some of the urgent stuff Joel begged me to take to make room for his body. Eat. You’re lucky to get room service today.”

  She settled back then on her heels, and Jim got the impression that she wasn’t going to move until they finished what she’d brought: klah, of course, slices of fresh fruit, and rolls that were still warm from the oven. That was enough to make him attack the meal ravenously, and he mumbled gratitude.

  “Yes, we’ve civilized your camp since, you’re likely to be here long enough to appreciate a few—” She paused, making a funny grimace, “comforts.”

  “What’s happening at Fort?” Jim asked, pinning Betty with a stern eye.

  She raised her eyebrows and lifted her hands in a gesture that told him she didn’t care to go into any great detail. “There’s good—we’re safe in Fort. There’s bad—we haven’t enough power packs left for sleds to mount any sort of defense against Fall.” She shrugged. “So we’ll sit tight. Safe enough in a cliff Thread can’t penetrate.”

  “Emily?”

  Betty pulled mouth and head to one side and rocked a hand. Though the medics had done all that their not-inconsiderable skill could do to repair Emily Boll’s broken body after the crash landing of the shuttle ferrying people from Landing to the new settlement at Fort, she was making a very slow recovery from the trauma. No wonder Paul had sounded so defeated: he and Emily made a superb team, each supporting the other. Without her active participation, Paul Benden would have a great deal to cope with even with Ongola’s help.

  “She’s some better,” the pilot said, “but it’ll be a long convalescence. Pierre’s taking real good care of her. Ongola’s a rock, as always, and if Joel would only stop yapping about losing so much cargo . . .”

  “We haven’t lost it . . .” Jim and Theo said in chorus.

  Betty chuckled. “If you two won’t give up, I don’t see that Paul should. And so I’ll tell him.” She looked down at the wide digital on her arm and rose. “I gotta go. Good to see you’ve got your appetites back.” And with a nod to each, she pushed back the foliage again.

  Jim caught a reassuring glimpse of the beach and the people moving about. “Leave it open, can you, Betty?”

  “I suppose so.” She found a string that had been left for such a purpose and tied back the branch. “Keep an eye on him, Theo.”

  “Glad to,” the dolphineer said with a deep chuckle.

  “Oh, one last bit of news, Jim,” Betty said. “Kaarvan sailed the Venturer out of Fort last night on the tide. He’ll come straight down. Be here in a couple of days.”

  Not long after, they both heard the swish of a powered sled rising and craned their necks out their impromptu door to see the rear of the big airborne sled as it flew northwest toward Fort. Jim was just gathering himself to rise when Beth Eagles appeared.

  “You both should have been on that sled,” she said without preamble, staring down at them with an expressionless face. “Unfortunately, Dart refuses to work with Anna Schultz”—Theo looked almost happy about that noncompliance as Beth turned to Jim—”and P
aul said that you’d probably crucify anyone else who tried to sail your precious Cross, so we’d better get you well enough to captain her. Kaarvan’s bringing more supplies and enough technicians so you can get this ridiculous fleet floating again.”

  “It isn’t ridiculous,” Jim said, leaning back and sighing with relief.

  “However,” Beth continued, kneeling to run an instrument over his body, “I think the sooner you’re out on that boat—”

  “Ship,” Jim corrected automatically.

  “Ship, then, the more likely you are to rest.”

  “But I have to . . .” He waved at the activity he could plainly see.

  “You have to rest, same as Theo here, or you won’t be any good to any of us, and Paul doesn’t need anything else to worry him—like the recuperation of Captain James Tillek!” She turned her back on him to check Theo. “And you’re going out to the Cross with him so that little mammal of yours can see you. But Teresa, Kibby, Max, and Pha have been told to make sure she won’t let you in the water until you’ve got skin again. Hear me, Theo Force?”

  “How could I avoid it?” There was a ripple of laughter in the dolphineer’s husky voice.

  That evening they were carefully escorted—they refused to be carried, though Theo walked stiff-legged and had turned very white under her tanned skin—to a dinghy and towed by Dart and Pha out to the Southern Cross. After being hoisted aboard by Efram and one of the crew, Jim managed a dignified descent to his own cabin, which he noticed had been set to rights after the storm had thrown his few possessions around. Theo had to be carried to her bunk, unable to bend her abraded knees to get down the short companionway.

  “We’re sleeping aboard,” Efram said, handing Jim a handunit, “but if you’ve any problems, just give a shout.”

  “Or call that Dart,” Anna Schultz said, poking her head around the door. She made a grimace, but it wasn’t ill-natured. “She’s on patrol around the ship. I just hope she doesn’t keep Theo awake, banging her nose into the hull by her bunk.”