The Skies of Pern

by Anne McCaffrey

  “How?” demanded the three men in chorus.

  She shrugged. “Or maybe the Red Star is on its way back? You know how many people feel that we should never have tampered with it in the first place.”

  Landing—local time 10:12 mid-morning—1.9.31

  Fairs of fire-lizards blanketed the air above Landing as F’lessan arrived. They were volatile at any time, and, on this morning, were exceedingly raucous and flying in intricate acrobatic displays, screaming in cacophonous descants. Their antics did not, however, obscure the next burst from the object in the sky. It amazed F’lessan that the phenomenon of a fireball, which could seem directly above Benden, could be visible in almost the same position here at Landing. It was brighter, which meant, he thought, that it was very bright indeed to be seen in daylight over Landing. And casting odd shadows, coming from the west, which was eerier. He hoped that Yoko would have noted the increase in its magnitude. Could it be a comet, swooping down so close to Pern? Hopefully, he thought, on a hyperbolic orbit that would give everyone a beautiful display, a bad fright, and then disappear, still shedding part of its mass. Unusual! Most unusual! Exhilarating, too, in a scary way!

  He saw more dragons emerge from between and recognized Monarth, with green Path on his right. So Monaco Bay was curious, too. A host more of dragons appeared. These were occluding his view of the fireball, clearly visible on the northeastern horizon. He shouldn’t waste any time getting to the Interface office and Yoko’s screens. He wondered how long the old ship’s telemetry had been monitoring it. This would be much more interesting than astronomy accounts of things that had happened a long time in the past.

  Put me down, Golly.

  There’re too many people. Golanth said, backwinging strongly as he was unable to find enough space in the dense swarm of people in front of Admin, nervous fire-lizards dipping and flitting above them.

  They’ll move. F’lessan had to see the thing, the fireball, whatever it was, land.

  They’ve nowhere to move to, Golanth told him.

  Cursing under his breath, F’lessan examined the mass of heads and bodies, the ring of guards around the door preventing entry. It would take time to push through that crowd and he was boiling with eagerness to see Yoko’s telemetry reports.

  Land on the roof, he told his dragon.

  But I’m heavy.

  Just get me close enough to drop on it. F’lessan swung his right leg over the last neck ridge, slightly swaying with Golanth’s maneuvering to get directly over the roof. Golanth raised his foreleg. This was an exercise rider and dragon had perfected in drill for use when the dragon couldn’t land and the rider had to reach the ground. F’lessan smoothly dropped to the sturdy forearm, his feet dangling in the air as he let his hands slide down to Golanth’s paw, hanging on to the talons.

  Right over the entrance, F’lessan added. I’ll just drop to the ground. Someone’ll break my fall.

  His right foot connected with something solid. He dropped to all fours on the roof, sliding down backward until his feet caught on the drain. Slipped on that and slithered until his knees lodged briefly in the rain gully.

  “Drop, dragonrider,” someone below him shouted. “We’ll catch you.”

  Hands tugged at the toes of his boot. He went limp, committed to the downward fall. Instantly his ankles were caught, then hands fastened on his knees, letting him down, supporting his thighs. In the next moment he was on his feet, being congratulated and enthusiastically thumped for the success of his daring stunt.

  Made it, he said somewhat smugly to Golanth who was hovering above.

  “Thanks! Thanks, thanks!” he said, skewing around to those behind him and then turned to the door. “Benden Weyr’s orders,” he said to the two guards who were preventing anyone from entering. The crowd behind was bombarding him with a babble of questions. “I’m F’lessan. Lemme in,” he shouted above the tumult.

  They did, immediately resuming their defensive postures. F’lessan strode forward, wondering how much time that stunt had taken, opening his jacket and peeling the helmet off.

  She’s here, Golanth said.

  Which she? F’lessan’s tone was amused.

  Both of them. She studies stars, you know, Golanth added. She’s shared night watches at Cove Hold.

  Then please inform Zaranth that F’lessan requires her rider’s assistance in the Interface office.

  F’lessan turned back to the door guards. “The Monaco Weyrleader’s on his way in.” He had to shout to be heard above the babble outside. “See that green rider Tai comes in, too, as quickly as possible.” Then to all the others shouting questions, he smiled and waved, saying “We’ll sort it all out and report to you shortly.”

  Monarth said he saw how you got in, F’lessan, and Golanth rumbled with amusement. They’ll try it.

  Maybe Mirrim will break a leg, F’lessan muttered, feeling uncharitable toward her. As he continued, he nodded in a blithe, unconcerned manner to a knot of anxious men and women at the other end of the reception area and hurried down the right-hand hall to the Yokohama Interface offices.

  At the end of that hall, the door to the Aivas chamber was open. He felt the usual grab at his throat when he saw the blank screen that had once given humans access to the most amazing intelligence on Pern. He swallowed the lump and turned left into the room where, seven Turns ago, he had learned how to build a computer.

  There had been significant additions to the original office, of course, to deal with all the data sent down from the Yokohama, the one remaining colony ship. Ordinarily the office was pleasantly busy, people at the four banks of workstations that were arranged back-to-back in the center of the large room. Now an odd anticipatory silence dominated the room as all eyes were trained on the wall monitor, which F’lessan couldn’t see from the door.

  “You can’t come—” began the burly door guard, whom F’lessan recognized as Tunge, one of the regular men. He skipped aside and explained with soft intensity. “Sorry, bronze rider, but everyone and his fire-lizard’s been trying to get in here since that thing in the sky was spotted.” Tunge was impressed, and scared.

  F’lessan made a quick survey of those in the room; where was Wansor? Surely Lytol and D’ram had got him here so the phenomenon could be described to him?

  “Master Wansor?” he murmured to Tunge.

  “Oh, him.” With a quick grin, Tunge jerked his head back down the corridor. “Him ’n’ Lord Lytol ’n’ bronze rider D’ram are in the conference room. There’s a big screen there, too, you know, so they could tell him what information’s being processed.”

  Directly across the room, one of the smaller monitors was blinking the legend PHO. F’lessan shook his head, trying to remember what the initials stood for—possibly hazardous object? Why had he assumed that the bright light was a comet? Below the title “Encounter Analysis” were eight columns, headed Estimated Time to Perigee, Distance, Velocity, Probability, Atmosphere Breakup, Impact Error Latitude, and Longitude. These were showing numbers that altered rapidly, either decreasing or, in the case of longitude, increasing. As F’lessan watched, the Estimated Time Perigee ticked over to 5800.

  That display gave him another frisson of apprehension. When had that clock started ticking down? He’d come as fast as he could without timing it. But then, he hadn’t anticipated that this could be a real crisis.

  He inched carefully along the wall, moving people who were almost unaware of being manipulated, so intent were they upon the monitor’s reports. He recognized several as off-duty technicians. Being tall, he eased into a spot in the corner and still had a clear view of the monitor. In front of him, Stinar, the duty officer, was standing with the barrel-chested man of medium height, dark-haired, with a handsome hooked nose, whom F’lessan recognized as Erragon, Wansor’s assistant. Shouldn’t he have been in the conference room? F’lessan chided himself. Lytol and D’ram could explain adequately to Wansor but Erragon was needed in here, interpreting the Yoko’s telemetry. When this was over
, he’d undoubtedly report to Master Wansor the more technical details of this unusual occurrence. The two were intent on the visual transmitted to Landing by Yoko.

  At maximum magnification, Yoko showed a small image of the nucleus, embedded in clouds of dust. Yoko added another window, attempting to trace it back to its original orbit. Details came up as:

  Semi-Major Axis = 33.712

  Period = 195.734

  Eccentricity = 0.971

  Perihelion = 0.953 AU

  Inclination = 103.95 degrees.

  But F’lessan, knowing all these figures would be available later, concentrated on the comet, now resolving jets and debris. Yes, it must be a comet. That would explain its slowing with respect to the stars. Outgassing can push a comet about, making an estimate of its orbit even harder. Furthermore, with the long axis running from the northwest to the southeast, who could tell? It may skid across our atmosphere and disappear south, thought F’lessan hopefully.

  Yet another working window opened, labeled Searching. Images of what F’lessan knew to be Pernese space flashed past, the streaking orbits of some of the minor planets against the background of northern hemisphere stars.

  “What’s all that about?” Stinar asked Erragon who was blinking at the rapidly altering display.

  “I’d hazard the guess that it’s searching for any old images of the comet. It is possible, you know,” Erragon went on, frowning at the speed of the search pattern, “that the comet originated in the Oort cloud.” His grin was forced. “It might even have been seen by our Ancestors.”

  “Really?”

  Erragon sighed, flicking his attention to some of the other sidebars. “We have a lot of material to review, you know. Just for our home system. Ah, yes,” and he pointed back to the search. “The material we’re seeing was released from the comet two to three weeks ago. Here we go,” he added, intent on the newest sidebar readings.

  Encounter Analysis

  Estimated Perigee in 1800 seconds

  Projected Perigee Distance 16km, error + –296km

  Encounter Velocity 58.48kmsec + –0.18km/sec

  Probability of Impact 48.9%

  Probability of Atmospheric Breakup (Airburst) 1.3%

  Impact Error Ellipse 3698 times 592km

  Location and Orientation of Ellipse 9° north, 18° east, Major Axis bearing 130°

  At that point, Erragon visibly tensed, leaning slightly forward on the balls of his feet in an attitude that confirmed F’lessan’s bad feelings about the alteration in probability of impact. He wasn’t certain that the error ellipse of impact was reassuring. Unless the comet suddenly pulled itself up in an escape parabola. Estimate to Perigee decreasing: 1500 seconds, or 25 minutes, F’lessan told himself. He also didn’t like standing around, watching, in a room full of people who didn’t seem to realize what could happen. The tension was palpable but everyone was so focused on the screen, too scared to ask questions or to break into the concentration of Stinar or Erragon.

  New figures at 1200 seconds, from the Yoko’s synchronic orbit over Pern, gave coordinates of Range 71377km, Yoko latitude 45.IN, Yoko longitude 118.4m. The magnitude was –5, which was bright enough and getting brighter and the fireball was suddenly moving a degree every minute. He stepped right beside Stinar and Erragon.

  “Where will it impact?” F’lessan murmured for their ears only.

  “We still don’t know that it will,” Stinar said softly, restlessly shifting his feet, turning his head sideways so that his words just reached F’lessan.

  “There’s a three-hundred-kilometer range error,” Erragon said as if that was significant.

  “Where?” Stinar demanded.

  “Right now, the range extends along the farther Eastern Island Ring.”

  “On the islands themselves, or in the sea?”

  Stinar took the hand-control unit from his pocket and punched in a command. The monitor opened a small window in the right corner, while the Probability Impact percentage rose steadily into the 50’s and the error ellipse—that narrow band along the far islands to which the Fireball was inexorably aimed—got smaller. The new window showed the Eastern Sea as it must be seen from Yoko, and the scattered islands of both Eastern Rings. A wide band was superimposed over the upper islands.

  “Looks more like the islands,” Stinar said with a little shrug.

  F’lessan knew that the islands were uninhabited, too far out in the Eastern Ring Sea to be attractive for anyone, even Toric, to hold; except whichever island currently housed the Abominator exiles—and no one but N’ton knew where that was.

  “I don’t like that,” Erragon said, stiffening.

  “Why?”

  “Those islands are all volcanic. An impact on them might trigger eruptions all along that chain,” he said, pointing.

  “Then we’ll just hope it falls in the sea,” Stinar said with a slightly nervous laugh.

  “That will produce other hazards,” Erragon said solemnly.

  F’lessan caught his breath. He’d seen volcanoes erupt; the one Piemur had discovered off the westernmost tip of Southern Hold blew up periodically, sending clouds of gray ash to blot the sun and stifle even the rich tropical vegetation. The one in the near Eastern Ring, which the ancients had called Young Mountain, liked to send immense boulders skyward and great lava flows down its side, spinning burning chunks onto its neighbors. The islands that the comet was heading for were much larger and he shuddered at the thought of all of them becoming active. They would cause tidal waves, which could have a disastrous effect on coastal areas—like Monaco.

  “It could still just graze,” Erragon murmured to Stinar, in a tone that gave F’lessan no confidence in that possibility at all.

  He glanced up at the legend, numbers whirring into new configurations all the time, as Yoko telemetry updated them.

  “It’s only got a few minutes to change course,” F’lessan said.

  Erragon glanced at him, blinking, as if he’d forgotten the bronze rider’s presence. “Did you know your Weyrleaders are in the conference room with Master Wansor?”

  Lessa and F’lar were also here? When—and why—had they arrived? Obscurely he was glad they had, especially the way this event was proceeding.

  “No, but I’d rather be in here and know the worst,” F’lessan said, watching Erragon’s shoulders twitch in startled reaction to the last word. “Where will it hit us?”

  “We don’t know yet,” but F’lessan saw Erragon’s eye flick to the Impact Probability, which flickered onto 60 percent.

  All three men caught their breath as the percentage jumped in a matter of seconds to 100 percent.

  “That’s still a consequence of the grazing impact,” Erragon said but F’lessan didn’t think he believed that. “The ellipse is shrinking. Can you adjust Yoko’s visuals?”

  On the map in the right-hand corner, the figures flickered in latitude and longitude, following the last downward plunge of the comet. Filling that screen at maximum magnification, the tuberlike shape of the comet nucleus showed geysers and jets blowing into space; chunks breaking off, floating slowly away. F’lessan was amazed since he knew the speed at which the comet was traveling and that eerie, almost dignified, breakup of its parts was like a Gather dance.

  “It’s going to miss …” Stinar whispered, unconsciously pushing both hands in a deflecting motion.

  “Just a few more degrees …” Erragon, too, was taut as if, by exerting sufficient willpower, he could shift the plummeting fireball south and east.

  “It’s got to be far enough away …” F’lessan was adding his tension in an unconscious effort to affect a descent that no effort could now alter.

  F’lessan found himself squinting at the sudden brightness of the picture—the brightness of sunlit sea or the comet. The magnitude of its dust trail now registered an eye-blinding intensity of –9!

  A new message imposed itself prominently: 120 seconds to perigee—105 seconds to impact.

  The monitor altered a
bruptly, darkening, and F’lessan saw the line on the sidebar that indicated Yoko was displaying a constructed image, made up of the optical, infrared, microwave, and other print capabilities that Erragon had once tried to describe to F’lessan. The nucleus of the comet looked suddenly darker but the reduction of the glare relieved his eyes. Ominously the message now read 60 seconds to atmosphere.

  Another read 20 seconds to impact, Angle 12° : magnitude of dust trail –9.

  People splayed fingers in front of their eyes. The glare-reduced optical version saved them from the splintering whiteness that erupted, which the monitor hastily continued to reduce. A screen flicked to a new image—identified as “synthetic radar”—as Yoko attempted to see through the clouds.

  Twenty seconds couldn’t have elapsed, F’lessan thought and then realized that Yoko was slightly behind in its reporting. Where had it impacted? The island chain or the sea?

  No one spoke. All seemed to be holding their breath. The silence was broken by printers churning out reams of hard copy that fell unnoticed into baskets or spilled to the floor. As the comet was spilling its substance onto the sea? Flaming molten debris down on the nearest Ring islands?

  Even the image on the screen seemed to recoil from the incredible brightness. Squinting through his fingers, F’lessan saw the radar image showing the surface topography—and a series of rings on the ocean. Waves traveled outward from the impact point, immediately followed by a much higher fountain of water as the sea fell back into the impact crater. Then he had the distinct impression of a wall moving out with astonishing speed and saw a column of red-brown steam spreading down to the sea, with black bits whirling up and out, and then vast billows rushing out from it across the sea.

  Still the silence in the Interface office was broken only by machines doing what they were programmed to do: disgorge columns of figures. The human observers struggled to absorb what they had just seen, were still witnessing as retinal afterimages: the creation of a storm of staggering proportions, blossoming up and outward. Steam, gas vapor, and whatever the head of the fireball had been composed of were part of the storm. The fireball had extinguished itself and then hit the sea, F’lessan repeated, making his mind believe what his eyes had seen: it made a hole that made a wave, which fell back, and sent up a fountain of water. Abruptly the data on the screen changed.