“True! Eden is once again corrupted by human greed.”
“Only one human,” Sallah felt obliged to remind him.
He held up two fingers significantly. “Two, Kimmer. And who else was she speaking to on board?”
“Kimmer, Bart Lemos, and Nabhi Nabol, and two other men I’ve never met.”
Ongola did not seem surprised. He took a deep breath and sighed before he put both hands on his thighs and rose to his full height. “I am grateful, and I know that the admiral and the governor will also be grateful.’
“Grateful?” Sallah stood, feeling none of the relief she had hoped to gain from telling her superior.
“We had actually anticipated some problems as people began to realize that they are here,” Ongola said, stabbing one long finger downward, “and cannot go anywhere else. The euphoria of the crossing is over; tonight’s celebration is planned to defuse a rebound as that realization sinks in. Well-fed, well-oiled people who have tired themselves with dancing are unlikely to plot sedition.”
Ongola opened the door, gesturing courteously for her to precede him. No one locked doors on Pern, even doors to official administrative offices. Sallah had been proud of that fact, but now she was worried.
“We’re not that stupid, Sallah,” Ongola said, as if he had read her mind. He tapped his forehead. “This is still the best memory bank ever invented.”
She gave a sigh of relief and managed a more cheerful expression.
“We still have a great deal to be thankful for on Pern, you know,” he reminded her.
“Indeed I do!” she replied, thinking of her dance with Tarvi.
By the time she had washed, changed into her own finery, and reached Bonfire Square, the party was in full swing and the impromptu orchestra was playing a polka. Halting in the darkness beyond all that light and sound, Sallah was astonished at the number of unexpected musicians who were stomping time as they waited their turns.
The music changed constantly as new musicians replaced those who had already played. To Sallah’s utter amazement, even Tarvi Andiyar produced pan pipes and played an eerie little melody, quite haunting and a quiet change after the more raucous sets.
The informal group went from dance tunes to solos, calling on the audience to sing old favorites. Emily Boll took a turn on the keyboard, and Ezra Keroon enthusiastically fiddled a medley of hornpipes that had everyone foot-tapping while several couples did hilarious imitations of the traditional seamen’s dance.
Sallah had enjoyed not one dance with Tarvi, but two. In the middle of the second, as they swayed to an ancient tune in three quarter time, there came a heart-stopping moment when it seemed as if Pern, too, had decided to dance to the new tunes it heard. Every dish on the trestle tables rattled, dancers were thrown off balance and those seated felt their chairs rock.
The quake lasted less than the time between two heartbeats and was followed by complete and utter silence.
“So Pern wants to dance, does it?” Paul Benden’s amused voice rang out. He jumped to the musicians’ platform, arms outspread as if he considered the quake an oblique sign of welcome. His comment caused whispers and murmurs, but it eased the tension. Even as Paul signaled the musicians to resume their music, he was scanning the audience, looking for certain faces.
Beside Sallah, Tarvi gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head and dropped his arms away from her. “Come, we must go check the rhythm of this dance.”
Sallah tried to hide her intense disappointment at having her dance with Tarvi cut short. The quake had to be given precedence. She had never felt an earth tremor before, but that had not prevented her from instantly understanding what had just occurred. Even as she and Tarvi made their way from the dancing square, she moved warily, as if to forestall the surprise of another shock.
Jim Tillek gathered his mariners to see that the boats were moored well within the newly reinforced breakwater, and hoped that if there were a tsunami, it would dissipate its force against the intervening islands. The dolphineers, with the exception of Gus, who was coerced into remaining behind to play his accordion, went to the harbor to speak to the marine mammals. They could signal the arrival of the tsunami and estimate its destructiveness.
Patrice de Broglie took a group to go set seismic cores, but in his professional opinion the shock had been a very gentle one, originating from a far-distant epicenter.
Sallah got to finish her dance with Tarvi, but only because he was told that the absence of too many specialists might cause alarm.
By morning, the epicenter had been located, east by northeast, far out in the ocean, where volcanism had been mentioned by the EEC team. As there were no further shocks penetrating to the mainland the geologists were able to dispel the ripple of uncertainty that had marred the Thanksgiving festivities.
When Tarvi wanted to join Patrice to investigate the epicenter, Sallah volunteered to pilot the big sled. She did not even mind that the sled was crowded with curious geologists and packed with equipment. She saw to it that Tarvi occupied the right hand driving seat.
* * * * *
After the Thanksgiving celebration, the colonists settled down to more routine work. The dolphins had a high old time tracking the tsunami wave; it had, as Tarvi had predicted, raced across the Northern Sea, spending the worst of its violence on the eastern extrusion and the western tip of the northern continent and the big island. Jim Tillek’s harbor was safe, although combers brought a ridge of bright red seawrack well up the beaches. The deep-sea plant was unlike anything so far discovered, and samples were rushed to the lab for analysis. An edible seaweed would be valuable.
The dolphins were excited by the earthquake, for they had sensed its imminence from the reactions of the larger marine forms that scurried for safety, and they were pleased to learn of such awareness in the life of their new oceans. As Teresa had told Efram in indignant clicks and hisses, they had rung and rung the seabell installed at the end of the jetty, but no one had come. The marine rangers had had their work cut out to soothe and placate the blues and bottlenoses.
“What was the sense,” Teresa, the biggest blue, had demanded, “of going through all that mentasynth infection if you humans don’t come to hear what we have to tell you?”
Meanwhile, high-quality copper, tin, and vanadium ores were assayed in the north at the foot of a great range, fortuitously near a navigable river by which ore could be carried down to the great estuary. Tarvi, who was now head of mine engineering on Pern, had inspected the site with that mining team’s leader, and they had proposed to the council that a secondary settlement there would be feasible. Ore could be processed in situ and shipped down river, saving a lot of time, effort, and trouble. The power resources committee agreed that the nearby cataracts would provide ample hydroelectric power. The council proposed to bring the matter up at the next monthly congregation. In the meantime, the geology teams were to continue their explorations of both continents.
Other progress was being made on land and sea. Wheat and barley were thriving; most of the tubers were doing well; and though several species of squash were having trouble, those crops were being sprayed with nutrients. Unfortunately, the roots of cucumbers and all but two of the gourds seemed to be susceptible to a Pernian fungus-worm, and unless the agronomists could combat it with a little cross-parasitism, they might lose the entire family Cucurbitacae. Technology was looking into the problem.
The orchard stock, bar a few samples of each variety, had bloomed and was leafing well. Transplants of two varieties of Pern fruit plants appeared to thrive near Earth types, and technology was hoping for some symbiosis. Two Pernian food plants showed evidence of being attacked by a human-brought virus, but it was too early to tell if it would prove symbiotic or harmful. Land suitable for rice cultivation fill had not been found, but the colony cartographer, busy translating probe pictures to survey maps, thought that the southern marshlands might work out.
Joel Lilienkamp, the stores manager, reported no problems and thanked everyone
, especially the children, for doing such a grand job of bringing in edible stuffs. The mariners, too, got special thanks for their catches. Some of the indigenous fishlike creatures were very tasty despite their appearance. He once again warned people to be careful of the fins on what they had dubbed “packtails,” for they would infect any cuts or scratches. He would gladly supply gloves now that plastics was able to produce a tough, thin film for handwear.
On the zoological front, Pol Nietro and Chuck Havers delivered a cautious report on the success of gestations. Some of each big species were progressing well, but the initial turkey eggs had not survived. Three bitches were expecting imminently, and there were seventeen kittens from four tabbies, though one mother cat had given birth to only one. Six more bitches and the other two female cats would be in heat soon and would shortly be inseminated or receive embryos. It had regretfully been decided not to use the Eridani techniques, especially mentasynth on the dogs, due to the considerable trouble with such adaptations on Earth. Some of the stock, and indeed many of the human beings, had ancestors who had been so “enhanced,” and their descendants still showed signs of extreme empathy, something that dogs apparently could not adapt to.
Geese, ducks, and chickens had no problems, and were laying regularly. They were kept in outdoor runs, too valuable yet to be allowed to range free, and the runs were much visited by both adults and children. It took nearly six weeks for the omnivorous wherries, as the EEC team had named the awkward fliers, to discover that new source of food and for hunger to overcome their cautious, though some termed it cowardly, nature. But when they finally attacked, they attacked with a vengeance.
Fortunately, by that time there were thirty of the little dragonets in Landing. Although smaller than their adversaries, the dragonets were more agile aerial fighters and seemed able somehow to communicate with one another so that as soon as one wherry had been driven off one dragonet, usually a big bronze, would keep pace with it to be sure it left the area, while the other dragonets would go to assist their fellows in fending off the next attacker.
Watching from the crowd of onlookers, Sorka noticed something very odd in the dragonets’ staunch defense: her Duke had appeared to attack one very aggressive wherry with what looked suspiciously like a little flame. Certainly there was smoke puffing up above the combatants, and the wherry broke off its attack and fled. It happened so fast that she was not sure what she had seen, so she did not mention the phenomenon to anyone.
There was always a cloud of smell accompanying wherries, like the sulfurous odor of the river estuary and the mud flats. If the fliers were anywhere upwind their presence was obvious. The dragonets smelled cleanly of sea and salt and sometimes, Sorka noticed when Duke lay curled on her pillow, a little like cinnamon and nutmeg, spices that would soon be memories unless there was more success in the green houses.
There was no question in the colonists’ minds that the dragonets had preserved the poultry from danger.
“By all that’s holy! What warriors they make,” Admiral Benden declared respectfully. He and Emily Boll had seen the attack from their vantage point in the met tower and hurried to help conduct the defense.
Though startled and unprepared, the settlers had rushed to the poultry run, grabbing up brooms, rakes, sticks – whatever was near to hand. The firemen, who were well drilled and had already had to control small fires, arrived with firehoses, which held off the few wherries that evaded the little defenders. Adults and kids herded the squawking, frightened poultry back into their hutches. One of the funnier sights, Sorka told Sean afterward, was watching the very dignified scientists trying to catch chicks. Although some people bore scratches from the raking talons of the wherries, there would have been more – and probably serious – casualties if the dragonets had not intervened.
“Too bad they’re not bigger,” the admiral remarked, “they’d make good watch animals. Maybe our biogeneticists can create a few flying dogs for us.” He inclined his head respectfully toward Kitti and Wind Blossom Ping. Kitti Ping gave him a frosty nod. “Not only did those dragonets use their own initiative, but, by all that’s holy, I swear they were communicating with each other. Did you see how they set up a perimeter watch? And how they combined their attacks? Superb tactics. Couldn’t have improved on it myself.”
Pol Nietro, himself impressed by the incident, was momentarily between phases of his scheduled projects and not the sort of personality to put leisure time to leisure use. So, when order had been restored and reliable young colonists set as sentinels against a repeat of the incursion, he and Boy paid a visit to Asian Square.
Mairi Hanrahan smiled at his request. “You’re in luck, Pol, for she happens to be home. Duke’s getting an extra-special meal for his defense of the poultry yard.”
“Ah, he was there, then.”
“Sorka would have it that he led the fair of dragonets,” Mairi said in a low voice, her eyes twinkling with maternal pride and tolerance. She ushered him into their living room, which had been transformed from utilitarian to homey, with bright curtains at the windows, and pots of flowering plants, some native and some obviously from Terran seed. Several etchings made the walls seem less bare, and brightly colored pillows improved the comfort of the plastic chairs.
Fair of dragonets? Like a pride of lions? Or a gaggle of geese? Yes very ‘fair’ description,” Pol Nietro said, his eyes twinkling at mother and daughter. “Not that you’re apt to have that kind of cooperation in the ordinary ‘fair.’ ”
Pol Nietro, if you’re casting aspersions on Donnybrook Fairs . . .” Mairi began with a grin.
Cast aspersions, Mairi? Not my way at all.” Pol winked at her. “But that fair of dragonets proved very useful. They did, indeed, seem to work well together to a common goal. Paul Benden noticed this particularly and wants Kitti and myself to – ”
Mairi caught his arm, her expression altered. “You wouldn’t – ”
“Of course not, my dear.” He patted her hand reassuringly. “But I think Sorka can help us, and Duke, if they’re willing. We have already amassed quite a good deal of information about our small friends. Their potential has just taken a quantum leap. And our understanding of them! We brought no creatures with us to ward off such vicious aerial scavengers as the wherries.”
Sorka was feeding a nearly sated Duke, who sat upright, tail extended on the top of the table, the tip twitching with a more decisive movement each time he daintily secured the morsel Sorka offered him. There was about him an odd, not completely pleasant odor which, out of deference to his heroism, she was trying to ignore.
“Ah, the servant is worthy of his hire,” Pol said.
Sorka gave him a long look. “I don’t mean to be cheeky, sir, but I don’t think of Duke as a servant of any kind. And he certainly proved he was a friend to us!” She waved her hand to indicate the entire settlement.
“He and his . . . cohorts,” Pol said tactfully, “most certainly proved their friendship today.” He sat down beside Sorka, watching the little creature pinch the next piece of food in its claws. Duke regarded the morsel from all sides, sniffed, licked, and finally took a small bite. Pol watched admiringly.
Sorka giggled. “He’s stuffed, but he never turns down food.” Then she added, “Actually, he’s not eating as much as he used to. He’s down to one meal a day, so he may be reaching maturity. I’ve kept notes on his growth, and really, sir, he does seem to be as big as the wild ones.”
“Interesting. Do please give me your records, and I shall add them to the file.” Pol shifted his body a bit. “Really, you know, this is a fascinating evolution. Especially if those plankton eaters the dolphins report could represent a common ancestor for the tunnel snakes and dragonets.”
Mairi was surprised. “Tunnel snakes and dragonets?”
“Hmm, yes, for life evolved from the seas here on Pern just as it did on Earth. With variations, of course.” Pol settled happily into his lecturing mode with an attentive if incredulous audience. “Yes, an aqua
tic eel-like ancestor, in fact. With six limbs. The first pair – ” He pointed at the dragonet still clutching his morsel in his front pincers. “ – originally were nets for catching. See the action of the front claw against the stationary back pair. The dragonets dropped the net in favor of three digits. They opted for wings instead of stabilizing middle fins, while the hind pair are for propulsion. The dry-land adaptation, our tunnel snake, was to make the front pair diggers, the middle set remained balancers, especially when they have food in the front pair, and the rear limbs are for steering or holding on. Yes, I’m sure we’ll find that the plankton eaters are like the common ancestors of our good friends here.” Pol beamed warmly down at Duke, who was deliberating taking a fresh morsel from Sorka. “However . . .” He paused.
Sorka waited politely, knowing that the zoologist had some purpose in his visit.
“Would you happen to know of any undisturbed nests?” he asked finally.
“Yes, sir, but it’s not a big clutch, and the eggs are rather smaller than others I’ve seen.”
“Ah, yes, perhaps the eggs of the smaller green female,” Pol said, placatingly. “Well, since the green is not as protective of her nest as the gold, she will suffer no great pangs if we borrow a few. But I did want to ask you one other, greater favor. I particularly remember your mentioning seeing the body of a hatchling in the water. Is this a frequent hazard?”
Sorka considered that and replied in the same objective tone of voice. “I think so. Some of the hatchlings just don’t make it. Either they can’t feed themselves enough to make up for the hatching trauma,” she began to explain. She didn’t see the slight grin tuggin at Pol Nietro’s mouth. “Or they are struck down by wherries. You see, just before hatching, the older dragonets bring seaweed to form a ring about the clutch, and offer fish and crawlies and anything else they can find to the hatchlings.”
“Hmm, definitely imprinting, then,” Pol murmured.
“By the time they’ve filled their stomachs, their wings have dried, and they can fly off with the rest of the fair. The older dragonets do a first-rate job of keeping off snakes and wherries, to give the babies a chance. One day, though, Sean spotted some eel-like thing attacking from the sea during a high tide. The hatchling didn’t have a chance.”
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