“Then why on earth didn’t you suggest that we bring one along on this trip?” she demanded.

   “The question was not put to this facility.”

   “The trouble with you, Aivas,” Sharra continued with some asperity, “is that you only tell us what you think we should know: not necessarily all we need to know or what we want to know.”

   A long silence ensued, during which she and Oldive left the laboratory, sealing the door behind them.

   “Sharra’s right, you know,” D’ram remarked at last.

   “Indeed,” Robinton said.

   “But would we have thought that a diamond cutter would be necessary, considering the selection of edged tools Sharra and Oldive did bring with them?” Jaxom asked, though he agreed completely with his mate and was rather proud of her for speaking so bluntly. It was significant, too, that Aivas had not refuted the accusation.

   Robinton shrugged in answer to Jaxom’s question. D’ram, however, pulled at his lower lip.

   “Diamond cutters are used for gemstones and glass etching. Why would we think to use them to cut open a Thread capsule?” the old Weyrleader asked. He lifted his hands, expressing inadequacy.

   “Master Fandarel would have,” Robinton remarked. Then he sighed. “We have so much still to understand, to learn, to appreciate. Is there ever an end, Aivas?”

   “To what?”

   Master Robinton turned a wry smile to Jaxom. “The question was rhetorical, Aivas.”

   From Aivas, there was silence.

   Later, when the group returned to Cove Hold, the consensus was that the sojourn on the Yokohama had been eminently successful. The dragons had become comfortable in free-fall; the humans had had the gratifying experience of cutting ship-shaped tunnels through incoming Thread at no risk to themselves or their dragons. Once their riders had dismounted, the dragons headed for the warm water of the Cove lagoon; and the humans, themselves, were by no means averse to a relaxing swim. Fortunately, Lytol had anticipated these needs and arranged for the meal he had ordered to be delayed until everyone had been refreshed.

   Ramoth had become so accustomed to fire-lizards by now that she did not object when wild ones came to assist the riders in scrubbing their dragons. In fact, she insisted that because she was the largest, she needed more to help Lessa scrub her, Lessa being not as big as the other riders. And Ruth has Jaxom and Sharra to bathe him, she added imperiously.

   When a laughing Lessa repeated Ramoth’s remark, Robinton announced that he was more than willing to scrub a queen. Then D’ram said that there were far too many fire-lizards helping Lessa, whereas Robinton had been flown to the Yokohama by Tiroth and so the Harper ought, out of courtesy, to wash the bronze. In the end, all the apprentices and journeyfolk working at Cove Hold, save Lytol, waded into the waters and helped bathe the five dragons.

   After a very pleasant evening meal spent in most congenial company, Jaxom, Sharra, and Oldive reluctantly departed for Ruatha. Jaxom was growing as accustomed to these long days as Sharra. Making use of the extra hours allowed him to acquit his Hold responsibilities while continuing to indulge himself in the Aivas schedule. While Sharra and Oldive dealt with the patients in the Hold infirmary, he located Brand and oversaw the enlargement of the beasthold at Riverside, and checked over the improvements to two more minor hold properties.

   Having put in a twenty-hour day, he was not best pleased then to be awakened in the black of the night by an urgent message from F’lessan, relayed to him by Ruth.

   Golanth says that the roof of Honshu caved in and something very curious, and quite possibly very important, has been discovered in a secret room, Ruth said, faithfully repeating what he had been told. Golanth has informed Lessa, F’lar, K’van, and T’gellan. Messages have also been sent to Master Fandarel, and for Master Robinton, to relay to Aivas.

   Jaxom did not move for a long moment, though his mind actively considered the information. He resented being roused from much-needed rest and yearned to go back to sleep.

   Golanth does not ever bother us unnecessarily, Ruth added almost contritely.

   I know that! Jaxom replied wearily. Any indication of Aivas’s response to this message?

   If you are not in Aivas’s presence, I can’t hear what he says.

   Ruth was silent for a long moment while Jaxom argued with himself about leaving the warn bed and his sleeping, wife and making an adequate response to this new summons.

   Tiroth is bringing all three from Cove Hold with him, the white dragon went on at last. He says that Lytol believes this could be very important. Aivas was insistent that these sacks be investigated as soon as possible. Ramoth and Mnementh will come. Everyone who was asked is coming.

   Stifling a groan, Jaxom eased himself out of bed, careful not to disturb Sharra. She needed the sleep as much as he did. Maybe this wouldn’t take long and he could get back before she discovered him gone again. She and Oldive were keen to return to the Yokohama with a diamond cutter. He would hate to disappoint them because he had been called elsewhere.

   He dressed, putting on light clothing under his riding gear in anticipation of the warmer weather in Honshu. He was pleased that, sleepy as he was, he could remember such details. But he did not, as he frequently did, check the riding harness that he always left openly on the peg in Ruth’s weyr. With the deftness of long practice, he rigged his covert gear on Ruth and, throwing open the wide doors to the weyr, followed the white dragon out to the courtyard to mount. The watchdragon, the watch-whey, and some of the Hold’s resident fire-lizards silently observed their departure, bright eyes gleaming blue or green spheres in the night.

   What a time to send for folk, Jaxom thought as Ruth leaped skyward.

   What time is it in Honshu? Ruth asked.

   “Sunup, probably!” Jaxom replied testily, envisioning the facade of Honshu Hold that F’lessan had vividly described to him.

   Between, Jaxom shivered despite his fur-lined riding jacket. Two breaths later they were hovering above a sea of mist, with dawn just breaking. Around them were other dragons, clinging to pinnacles that rose above the obscuring vapor. Ruth descended to the nearest vacant spire and nodded greetings to the other dragons.

   “And where is Honshu?” Jaxom asked.

   Ramoth says it’s obscured in the river fog to our right. I knew where I was going. It just isn’t visible yet, Ruth replied. Today begins beautifully, doesn’t it? he added unexpectedly, gazing eastward, where the sky was a lighter blue.

   Grudgingly, Jaxom agreed as he contemplated the view. To his left, both moons were visible, half full, hanging in a sky of an unusual clear and cloudless blue as night retreated westward-where he should still be in his bed, he thought ruefully. He suppressed the urge to lean forward in his saddle, rest his head on Ruth’s neck, and go back to sleep until the mist cleared. But the longer he looked on a day so beautifully beginning-he hadn’t known that Ruth could be so lyrical-he found it increasingly difficult to look away.

   More dragons arrived, hovering in surprise to discover their landing site so totally obscured and eventually settling wherever they could.

   Golanth apologizes, Ruth informed Jaxom. The mist rolled up from the river just as day broke. He says that once the sun is up this will clear away. He says he will go stand near the place where the roof collapsed. The white dragon turned his head in the appropriate direction, and Jaxom spotted Golanth’s bronze shape rising out of the mist to settle on a still invisible surface. Golanth says that there is hot klah and porridge waiting and so few of us have seen Honshu that we have a nice surprise coming. He says there is very good hunting in the valley-when it’s visible.

   Ruth’s. qualifier touched Jaxom’s sense of humor, and he chuckled himself out of irritability just as the sun rose, shooting bright, hot rays across the mist. Then a breeze picked up energy and very shortly the mist cleared away, revealing at last Honshu’s cliff face and Golanth, perched on the heights.

   Golanth says for us to land you on the upper level by the hold’s main door. There should be enough room for all. More of the roof might collapse, and on the lower level, the beasthold hasn’t been completely cleaned out yet. F’lessan doesn’t want anyone entering that way.

   Almost as one, the waiting dragons lofted themselves. Perhaps it was the downdraft of great wings wafting away the last tendrils of mist, but by the time the dragons were ready to land, the vapor had cleared right up to the second tier of window slits.

   F’lessan and the other weyrfolk who were making Honshu livable were waiting in the wide doorway, cheering the arrivals.

   “Thanks for coming so promptly,” F’lessan said, grinning broadly. “I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Sorry to get you out of your bed, Jaxom, because I know you had a long day, but you’d hate me to leave you out of this.” The young bronze rider threw a companionable arm about Jaxom’s shoulders, his expression so uncharacteristically anxious that Jaxom felt obliged to reassure him.

   “It’s thoughtful of you to have food and klah laid on, F’les’san,” Lessa said as she crossed the entrance hall, “but I’d rather see your discovery first.”

   F’lessan pointed to plastic sacks on the long table in the main room. “You can see the secret room, too, if you don’t mind a long climb up winding stairs.”

   Everyone but Jaxom hurried to the table. He stood on the threshold, staring up at the amazing murals, their colors as brilliant as the day they had been first applied. Vaguely he recalled Lytol and Robinton talking about the decorations at Honshu, but he had not expected anything nearly so magnificent.

   “Rather spectacular, isn’t it?” F’lessan asked, turning back to his old friend. He spent a long moment admiring it, too. “The place is not really big enough for a Weyr, though Golanth says that there’re plenty of good ledges to lie on. And good eating.”

   “Southern Weyr had less than this originally,” Jaxom reminded him.

   “True. But it’s arranged as a hold. I just don’t want anyone lording it in here,” F’lessan said with unexpected fervor. “People know they can come and go freely in a Weyr. C’mon, you’ll want to see the stuff I found. And now that I’ve got you here at last, you’re going to see the whole place. It is remarkably well preserved and full of the most fascinating tools and equipment. All the smiths are drooling over them.”

   “I’ve had the complete inventory from Jancis,” Jaxom said with a wry grin.

   F’lessan’s find was most unusual: liquid carefully stored in plastic bags. Each had been tied shut around the neck by rigid strips that ended in wide tabs, which were inscribed with strokes in odd patterns, the like of which neither Robinton nor Lytol had seen in all of Aivas’s records.

   “I opened one,” F’lessan said, pointing to the sack sitting in the bowl, its mouth carefully peeled back so that its contents were accessible. “I thought at first it had to be water, but it’s not. It’s got an odd sheen to it, and anyway, water would long since have evaporated, I think. It smells funny. I didn’t taste it.”

   Lytol and Fandarel nearly bumped heads as both leaned over to sniff the liquid. Fandarel dipped in a finger and smelled it, grimacing.

   “Definitely not drinkable.”

   “We should take this sack to Aivas for examination,” Lytol said. “Is this all there were?”

   “No,” F’lessan replied blithely. “Thirty-four more, plus the six here. They don’t all contain the same amount of whatever it is. There were a few empty sacks in the attic so some leakage occurred. Or maybe tunnel snakes chewed their way through. They’ll eat anything.”

   “You said something about a stairway?” Lessa asked.

   “Well, the steps weren’t completely cut. Just a toehold up the final curve. We didn’t bother to explore that level-until Benmeth crashed through.”

   “You didn’t say whether she hurt herself or not,” Lessa said almost accusingly.

   F’lessan grinned, rarely affected by his mother’s moods. “Scraped her right hind leg, but J’lono’s slathered numbweed all over her. She’s down in the workroom.”

   “Show me where the stairs are, F’lessan,” F’lar said, and when the young bronze rider had indicated the doorway, the Benden Weyrleader led the way, followed closely by Fandarel, Lytol, K’van, and T’gellan.

   “Oh, no, you don’t,” Lessa said, grabbing Robinton by the arm. “Free-fall’s all right but stairs are not, Robinton. And you won’t have eaten yet if I know you.”

   Not fancying a long hike, Jaxom added his persuasions to Lessa’s, and F’lessan insisted that Robinton would insult the weyrfolk if he didn’t sit down right that moment and enjoy Honshu’s hospitality.

   “It is fuel,” Aivas said, and Robinton could have sworn he heard jubilation in his voice. “Fuel!”

   “Yes, but is it any good after so many centuries?” Fandarel asked.

   Jaxom had a brilliant vision of the three shuttles lifting off the ship meadow, but canceled it almost immediately as a total impossibility. Those ships would never fly again. Pern hadn’t the technology necessary to repair them properly.

   “The fuel does not deteriorate with age, nor does the sample you brought appear to have suffered any contamination. Since this discovery is in Honshu, Kenjo Fusaiyuki’s Stakehold, it is logical to assume that this is part of the fuel he had diverted for his personal use. Mention was made of this cache in Captain C. Keroon’s records; a search for the fuel cache was conducted at Honshu, but it was never found.”

   “But the sled was so well preserved, couldn’t we-” Fandarel began excitedly.

   “The sled used power packs, not fuel. The forty sacks that have been recovered will be put to excellent use,” Aivas said.

   “Where? Why? In what?” Jaxom demanded. “I thought you said the Yokohama used matter/antimatter engines.”

   “For interstellar travel only,” Aivas explained. “This fuel was used for propulsion in-system.”

   “The shuttles in the field?”, Piemur asked, his face flushed with anticipation. And Jaxom realized that he was not the only one who had had dazzling visions.

   “Even were you technologically more advanced, they have deteriorated past repair,” Aivas said. “This unexpected dividend will be put to very good use when the alternatives have been thoroughly reviewed.”

   Jaxom and Piemur exchanged expressions of disgust.

   “Let me guess, Aivas,” Jaxom said. “We could put all the fuel in the Yokohama’s tanks, or split it up between all three ships. There’d be enough to give us half-grav, some maneuverability-that is, if we wanted to go anywhere in those ships...” He finished on a querying note.

   “There is insufficient fuel to reach the Oort Cloud,” Aivas said. “Or to follow the direction of the Thread stream and use the destruct capability of the shields to reduce the density of the ovoids.”

   Trying not to let his frustration show, Jaxom made himself grin at Piemur. “Well, he thought of one course that I didn’t.”

   “Who are we to outguess Aivas?” Piemur asked, but Jaxom noted the suppressed anger in the harper’s eyes.

   “One of these days...” Jaxom said just loud enough for Piemur to hear, and Piemur nodded.

   “But, Aivas, since there is this sample,” Fandarel said urgently, “can you not analyze its composition so that we can duplicate it? Surely we can make enough fuel to take at least one ship to the Oort Cloud.”

   “For what reason?”

   “Why, to blow up the Oort Cloud! Destroy the Thread organism that is generated there!”

   Another of Aivas’s curious silences ensued, and then suddenly the Rukbat system came up on the screen, the sun dwarfing its satellites. Abruptly the picture altered, the brilliant sun diminishing to a pinpoint of light, the planets reducing out of visibility on the new scale, and the swirling nebulosity of the Oort Cloud appearing to flow across the screen, blotting out even the distant Rukbat. As in so many previous demonstrations, a red line began to describe the orbit of the Red Star, moving through the Oort Cloud and back into the system, swinging around the primary, inside Pern’s conventional path.

   “Aivas certainly knows how to cut us down to size,” Piemur murmured.

   “Oh!” Fandarel said, resigned. “It is indeed difficult to appreciate the massive scale of the Cloud and the insignificance of our tiny world.”

   “So what do we destroy to be rid of Thread?” F’lar asked.

   “The best way to reduce the threat of Thread is to alter the orbit of the eccentric planet that brings it into Pern’s system.”

   “And when will you tell us how we accomplish that?”

   “The research and technology required will shortly be completed.”

   “Then finding the fuel makes no difference?” F’lessan slumped in disappointment, his usually merry expression glum.

   “It may make a difference in another area, F’lessan. It is always good to have alternatives. You have all done exceedingly well.” That, from Aivas, was praise indeed. “Do not succumb to apathy.”

   “What should I do with all these fuel sacks then?” F’lessan asked dispiritedly.

   “They should be transferred to a safe storage facility in Landing.

    “I shouldn’t put them into anything else? Those sacks are old.”

   “If they have lasted 2,528 years, they will suffice for another.” A chart appeared on the screen. “Now, here is the schedule for bronze and brown dragons to jump to the cargo bays of all three ships. The latest readings indicate sufficient oxygen levels to allow every dragon and rider some experience in free-fall.”

   “Why?” F’lar asked.

   “It is essential for the success of the Plan that all the dragons of Pern learn to handle weightlessness.”

   The schedules were forwarded to the Weyrleaders of all eight Weyrs, and there was a good deal of jubilation from all but a few-and those were mainly riders of elderly dragons for whom even hunting was becoming difficult. The weyrlings were ecstatic, and Weyrlingmasters hard put to maintain discipline.

   Each group was sent up with someone experienced in free-fall; even Jancis, Piemur, and Sharra were sent as monitors.

   There were often full fairs of fire-lizards tagging along, and though that occasioned complaints, Aivas approved of their interest. A new enthusiasm swept through all the Weyrs, overcoming the mid-Pass apathy.

   Three days later, fires were set among the fuel sacks, but firelizards gave the alarm so no harm was done. On hearing of the near disaster, Aivas was unperturbed and, in an offhanded tone, informed the agitated Lytol and D’ram that the fuel was nonflammable. The relief was palpable, but when Fandarel heard, he immediately wanted to know exactly how such fuel provided the desired effect. Aivas responded with a lecture on the intricacies of seven kinds of jet engines, from the simple reaction engines they had learned about, which made little sense even to Master Fandarel, to more complex multistage affairs.

   That evening Master Morilton dispatched his fire-lizard with an urgent and horrified message that someone had destroyed all the lenses his Hall had ready to be installed in microscopes and telescopes, ruining months of hard and patient work. Later the next morning Master Fandarel found that the metal barrels he had been producing to house the lenses had been thrown into the forge fire and distempered overnight.

   It was as well that the orientation program for dragons was going so well, or morale would have hit a new low. Then Oldive and Sharra at last were successful in penetrating the shell of the Thread egg with a black diamond cutter.

   “I’m not much wiser,” Sharra told Jaxom when she returned home that evening. “It’s a complex organism, and it’s going to take us time to analyze it. We have to work so slowly. I think that may be why Aivas taught us how to culture bacteria. Good training for this investigation.”

   “What did it look like-inside, I mean?”

   “The most astonishing mess,” she said, frowning in perplexity. Then she gave a disparaging chuckle. “I don’t know what I thought it’d look like. In fact, I never thought about it at all. But the ovoid is coated in layers of dirty, rock-hard ice, with all kinds of pebbles and grains and-and junk mixed up. It’s sort of whitish, yellow, black, gray... Is the yellow helium? Were you there for those lectures on liquefying gas? No, that was Piemur and Jancis.

   “At any rate, there are rings that wrap round and round. You can separate the rings from the other material. There are tubes, and patches of bubbling stuff. Aivas said it was a very disorganized life-form.”

   Jaxom laughed in surprise. “It certainly disorganizes us!”

   “Silly! He doesn’t mean it that way. But we couldn’t do much today because we don’t have the proper tools to work in threedegree absolute temperatures.” She grinned in reminiscence. “The tools we brought sort of went brittle and disintegrated in the cold.”

   “Metal? Turned brittle?”

   “Good Smithcraft steel, too. Aivas says we have to use special glass.”

   “Glass, huh.” Jaxom thought of all the time Aivas had spent with Master Morilton and grinned. “So that was why. But how could Aivas have known then that we’d capture Thread when he didn’t even know we could?”

   “I’m not sure I followed all of that, Jaxom.”

   “I’m not sure I did, too, lovey. I wonder who’s getting the bigger surprises? Aivas, or us?”

   The next morning, Sharra asked Jaxom if he would mind letting Ruth convey her to Master Oldive to confer on who else they would need to assist them in their study. Ruth was always glad to oblige Sharra, so Jaxom was free to remain behind in Ruatha to preside with Brand over a long-delayed Hold disciplinary meeting.

   He was just taking his seat in the Great Hall when he caught a glimpse of Ruth departing with Sharra on his back. He bounced back to his feet in alarm.

   The harness, Ruth! Which harness did Sharra use?

   At the same moment that Ruth replied, She’s safe, her two fire-lizards screamed so loudly that Lamoth, the elderly bronze on Ruatha’s heights, bugled a warning. As Jaxom watched paralyzed by shock, he saw Ruth slowly descending, Sharra clutching him tightly about the neck; Meer and Talla hooked their talons in the shoulders of her riding jacket. The main riding strap dangled loosely between Ruth’s legs.

   Trembling in fear for what might have been, Jaxom forgot dignity and duty as he tore out of the Great Hall. In his wish not to worry her with an incident he had almost forgotten, he had nearly cost her her life. As Ruth delicately landed in front of him, his hands were still shaking as he helped Sharra down from her precarious perch and embraced her tightly.

   I should have asked which harness she had with her, Ruth said, his tone remorseful, his hide tinged gray with anxiety. I could have told her where you hide the harness you’re using now.

   “It’s no fault of yours, Ruth. You’re all right, Sharra? You didn’t hurt yourself? When I saw you hanging-” His voice broke and he buried his face in her neck, aware that she was trembling nearly as much as he.

   Sharra was quite willing to be comforted, but soon enough she became aware of the audience and, with a weak, embarrassed laugh, struggled to be free. He eased his hold but did not let her go. If she had not been such a skilled rider... if Ruth hadn’t been such a clever dragon...

   “I thought you’d mended that harness,” she said, anxiously looking into his eyes.

   “I had!” He couldn’t tell her the truth, not with so many within earshot, and despite the bond between them, she did not apparently realize he was not being entirely candid.

   “I’ve got to go, Jaxom,” she said, duty warring with fright. “Would Ruth be totally offended if I went with G’lanar on Lamoth?”

   “You’ll go on?” Jaxom was both amazed by and proud of his wife’s courage and resilience.

   “It’s the best thing I can do, Jax, to get over this shock.” She leaned across him to stroke Ruth’s nose. “I know it wasn’t your fault, dearest Ruth. Please relax! That shade of gray is not becoming!”

   I felt the strap go as I leaped, Ruth told Jaxom. I should have asked her which straps she used. I should have.

   “It’s all right. You saved Sharra,” Jaxom repeated, never more grateful to his dragon than at this moment. “She still has to get to the Healer Hall. On Lamoth with G’lanar.”

   Ruth eyed his rider, the orange of panic beginning to recede. He’s all right for an Oldtimer, Ruth allowed grudgingly. I wish that Dunluth and S’gar were back.

   “You know that pair can’t fly Thread now. G’lanor’s failing and Lamoth can barely chew his food anymore, much less firestone.” Jaxom didn’t think more of Ruth’s comment then but tactfully called to the elderly dragon and rider to convey Sharra to the Healer Hall. He stripped off the dangling harness and rolled it up until he could examine it.

   He watched the three until Lamoth went between, Meer and Talla following without fuss. Then he retraced his steps to the Great Hall, while Brand and the understewards gestured for those attending the court to settle themselves.

   “You never told her?” Brand murmured in Jaxom’s ear as they sat down.

   “I will now. That was too close.” Jaxom saw that his fingers were trembling as he sorted the papers he had scattered in panic.

   “Indeed and it was. Does this... obvious attempt on your life have anything to do with all the recent incidents?”

   “I wish I knew.”

   “You will speak to Benden now, won’t you?” Brand’s look was severe and implacable.

   “I will,” Jaxom agreed with a faint smile, “because I know that you intend to.”

   “So long as that’s understood.” Then in a louder voice, Brand went on. “The first case concerns the alleged misuse of Hold supplies...”

   That evening Jaxom told Sharra every detail of the incident at Tillek Hold and the investigations that Brand had set in motion, investigations that had produced no results at all, for Pell professed himself to be quite content working in his father’s craft. No one had asked him about his Ruathan Bloodlines, he assured them. And he was only a second cousin at best.

   After Sharra had torn strips out of him for “sparing” her anxiety, they went over the entries in the Hold visitors’ book and could find no one in the least bit suspicious. Ruth could not even be encouraging, for he was not always in his weyr when Jaxom was at home. He usually joined whichever dragon was on duty on the heights.

   Even old Lamoth, he added. I scratch his itches; he scratches mine.

   Both Sharra and Jaxom were due at Landing the next day for a meeting concerning the vandalism.

   “If you don’t come clean about this incident, Jaxom, I will,” Sharra said, her expression fierce.

   “That was about succession, Sharrie,” he objected. “The destruction is a different matter entirely.”

   “How do you know that?” she demanded, clenching her fists on the armrest and shooting him an angry and reproachful glare. “Especially when you’re the leader for all of Aivas’s plans.”

   “Me? The leader?” Jaxom stared at her in complete surprise.

   “Well, you are, even if you don’t realize it.” Then her severe expression softened. “You wouldn’t.” She gave him a sweetly condescending smile. “You are, though. Take my word for it, and everyone on the planet knows it.”

   “But I-I-”

   “Oh, don’t get fussed, Jax. It’s one of your most endearing traits that you don’t get puffed up with importance and irritate people with an inflated self-consequence.”

   “Who does that?” Jaxom rapidly thought of all those working so diligently with him.

   “No one, but you’d have the right to.” She came to sit on his lap, coiling one arm about his neck and stroking his frown smooth. “That’s why you might well be a target for the dissidents. You certainly can’t hide from the fact that dissatisfaction about Aivas’s far too long-term project is increasing.”

   Jaxom sighed, for it was but one more thing he had tried to play down. “I’m all too aware. In fact, it’s almost a relief to know they’ve come out in the open.”

   Sharra stiffened in his arms. “You know who they are?”

   He shook his head. “Sebell knows who’s likely to be involved, but none of his harpers have been able to produce any evidence. And you can’t really accuse a Lord Holder without pretty substantial proof.”

   She murmured agreement and laid her head down on his shoulder. “You are being careful, aren’t you, Jax?” she asked in a low and anxious voice.

   He hugged her to him. “More than you are. How many times have I told you to check the riding harness before you use it?” he asked. He met her outraged reaction with a grin.

   When the meeting convened the next day in Landing, Aivas took charge, first ordering the building cleared of all but those immediately involved.

   “While these incidents are clearly directed at the new technology you are developing,” Aivas said, “none, so far, threatens the success of the main drive of your efforts.”

   “Not yet,” Robinton said darkly.

   “I disagree,” Sharra said, and fixed Jaxom with a steady glance. When he hesitated, she added, “Someone’s trying to kill Jaxom.”

   When the commotion subsided, Jaxom gave a full and concise report.

   “That is disturbing,” Aivas said, raising his voice over the babel of questions. “Is not the white dragon protection against such attempts? Can he not prevent them?”

   “Don’t get so upset, “ Jaxom said, annoyed at the fuss, though he wanted to set his mind at rest over any further threat to Sharra. “Ruth knew the moment the leather went, and he saved Sharra’s life. I left those riding straps right out in the open, and hid the set I use. It was only-”

   “He was trying to keep me from worrying,” Sharra said in an acid tone. “Brand is trying to find out who could have sliced the leathers. It was done very cleverly by someone who knew exactly what stress would be put on riding straps.”

   “A dragonrider?” Lessa’s voice rose to a near shriek, and outside half the dragons on the heights bugled in alarm. “There isn’t a dragonrider on Pern whod endanger Jaxom or Ruth!” And she glared at the young Lord Holder as if he were at fault. He glared right back.

   “Nor any way a dragonrider could do so without his dragon’s awareness,” F’lar said emphatically.

   “Nothing would be gained by-” Lessa faltered. “By disposing of Jaxom.”

   “Could it have been as protest to my involvement with Thread?” Sharra asked.

   Jaxom shook his head violently. “How could it? Who would know that you’d want to have Ruth fly you to the Healer Hall?”

   “Since it is usually Jaxom who flies Ruth,” Aivas’s calm voice said, “it is logical to assume that he was the target. No further attempts on his life must be permitted.”

   “Meer and Talla have their orders,” Sharra said resolutely.

   “What about Ruth?” Lessa demanded, and was silenced by a cacophony of bugling from the massed dragons at Landing. She blinked in surprise at their belligerence. “And, it would appear, every other dragon on Pern!” Then she leaned across to lay her hand on Sharra’s arm. “We’re alert to the danger now.” She swung her glance to Jaxom and radiated rebuke. “We should have known much earlier, young man!”

   “I have not been in danger,” Jaxom protested. “I have been very careful.”

   “You would be wise to increase personal vigilance, Jaxom. Also, proper security measures must be promptly inaugurated to prevent further vandalism in every Crafthall that has undertaken to do specialized work,” Aivas said sternly. “The recent destruction certainly delays the completion of useful equipment, but the vandals were, fortunately, not aware of the true significance of other crucial projects: the space helmets, the oxygen tanks, and the additional space suits which are vital to the success of our endeavour.”

   “All that work is divided among several Halls and different locations,” Fandarel said with an air of relief. Then he shook his head, his expression doleful. “I find it very hard to believe that some member of my Crafthall could so wantonly destroy the hard work of his colleagues.”

   “Your society is a trusting one,” Aivas said, “and it is sad to see that trust betrayed.”

   “It is indeed,” Fandarel agreed, his voice heavy with sadness. Then he straightened his shoulders. “We will be vigilant. F’lar, would there be any riders available for extra guard duty?”

   “Watch-whers would be more effective,” Lytol said, entering the discussion for the first time. He had turned very pale, despite his southern tan, during the disclosure of Jaxom’s peril. “They would be most effective, and I am of the opinion that the Weyrs are stretched as far as they should be right now.”

   “Watch-whers and fire-lizards,” Fandarel said. “Many of the Craftmasters involved have fire-lizards, and once they know that they are to be vigilant, they will be.”

   “My brother Toric had had good luck using some feline cubs,” Sharra put in. “Of course, they have to be caged in the daytime, for they are ferocious beasts.”

   “Recruit whatever guardians are necessary, but do not permit the essential manufacturing to be damaged,” Aivas ordered. “Tomorrow the dragons assigned to exercises in the Yokohama are to transport the fuel sacks. Master Fandarel, you will see that the sacks are emptied into the main tank. That will eliminate one security problem.”

   “Would that we could remove all the vulnerable materials to the Yokohama!” F’lar said. “Could we?” he asked Aivas.

   “Unfortunately that is impossible, for a variety of reasons.

   However, as soon as certain items have been completed, they should indeed be transported to the safety of the Yokohama.”

   “Is there any guarantee that they’d be safe there’?” Lytol wanted to know. He ignored those who regarded him with anger, dismay, disbelief, or anxiety as he waited for Aivas’s reassurance.

   “This facility can efficiently and easily monitor the Yokohama as you cannot your individual Holds, Halls, and Weyrs,” Aivas replied.

   “And the guardian guards himself!” Lytol added in a low voice.

   “Q.E.D.,” Aivas said.

   “Cue ee dee?” Piemur asked.

   “That has been demonstrated.”

14

   ON THE BRIDGE of the Yokohama the next afternoon, Jaxom and Piemur leaned over the engineering console.

   “I know we emptied all those sacks in,” Piemur said in an aggrieved tone, “but you wouldn’t know it from the gauge.”

   “Big tank,” Jaxom said, giving the dial a tap. “Drop in the bloody bucket.”

   “All that work for nothing,” Piemur added, disgusted. They had had to suit up, because the fuel auxiliary intake pipe had been in a low-pressure section. The harper did not like the restrictions of a suit and the smell of tanked air. Despite weightlessness, the sacks had been awkward to manage: they could only take two at a time to the engineering level from the cargo bay where the dragons had transported them. And they were even more awkward to empty into the intake, following Aivas’s instructions on the procedure for handling fluids in free-fall.

   “Not for nothing,” Aivas replied. “It is now safe from any tampering.”

   “Then it was dangerous?” Piemur asked, shooting Jaxom an I-told-you-so look.

   “The fuel was not flammable, but if it were spilled, there would be toxic effects. Also, soil impregnated with the fuel becomes sterile. It is wise to avoid any unnecessary problems.”

   Jaxom rotated his shoulders, easing tense muscles. Sometimes working in these free-fall conditions was harder than performing a similar task on Pern.

   “We have quite enough trouble as it is,” Piemur said, and then turned to Jaxom. “Klah?” He lifted the hot bottle, one of Hamian’s new contraptions: a large, thick, glass bottle, insulated by teased fibers of the same plant Bendarek was using to make paper and set inside a casing of Hamian’s new hard plastic. It kept liquid warm or cold, though some people could not understand how the bottle knew the difference. “Meatroll?” He held out several wrapped rounds.

   Jaxom grinned as he sipped from the bottle, taking care not to let any droplets escape into the air. “How is it that you always seem to have the very latest thingummies?”

   Piemur rolled his eyes expressively. “Aivas said it was a thermos, and harpers traditionally try new things out! And besides, I’m resident at Landing, where Hamian has his manufactory, and you’re just a runner-in, always missing the fun.”

   Jaxom refused to rise to the jibe. “Thanks for the food, Piemur. I’d worked up quite an appetite.”

   They had taken off their helmets and gloves upon entering the bridge and now made themselves comfortable in the console chairs. After the first edge of their hunger was allayed, Piemur gestured to Ruth, Farli, and Meer, who were plastered across the window, staring out.

   “Do they see something we don’t?” he asked.

   “I asked Ruth,” Jaxom said. “He says he just likes to look at Pern, all pretty laid out like that. With the clouds and the differences in light, it never looks the same twice.”

   “While you are eating,” Aivas said, “this is an opportunity to explain another very important step in the training process.”

   “Is that why we got the sack duty?” Piemur asked with a wink and a grin at Jaxom.

   “You are as perceptive as ever, Piemur. We have a secure channel here.”

   “We’re all ears,” Piemur said, then added hastily, “figuratively speaking, naturally.”

   “Accurate. It is essential to team how much time dragons can spend in space unprotected by such suits as you are now wearing.”

   “I thought you’d figured that out, Aivas,” Jaxom said. “Ruth and Farli suffered no harm at all during the time they were on this bridge. They didn’t seem to notice the cold and certainly weren’t in oxygen debt.”

   “They were on the bridge for precisely three and a half minutes. It is required that dragons function normally for a minimum of twelve minutes. Fifteen would be the upper time required.”

   “For what?” Jaxom asked, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Piemur’s eyes were bright with excitement.

   “The exercise is to accustom them to being in space-”

   “Having already become accustomed to weightlessness?” Jaxom asked.

   “Exactly.”

   “So we’re at the walking stage?” Piemur asked.

   “So to speak. The level of adaptability of your dragons is commendable. There have been no unfavorable reactions to the experience of free-fall.”

   “Why would there be?” Jaxom asked. “It’s on a level with hovering, or being between, and dragons have no problem with that. So now, they’re to go extravehicular.”

   “Wouldn’t they float away?” Piemur asked, casting an anxious look at Jaxom. “I mean, like the Thread eggs do?”

   “Unless a violent movement was made, they would remain stationary,” Aivas said. “As they will exit from the Yokohama, they are moving at the same speed, not at a different velocity as the incoming Thread spheres are. However, to prevent any panic-”

   “Dragons don’t panic,” Jaxom said in flat contradiction, speaking before Piemur could utter a similar rebuke.

   “Their riders might,” Aivas replied.

   “I doubt it,” Jaxom said.

   “Perhaps dragonriders are a breed apart, Lord Jaxom,” Aivas said at his most formal, “but records of many generations indicate that some humans, despite training and reassurance, can find themselves overwhelmed by agoraphobia. Therefore, to prevent panic, the dragon should anchor itself-”

   “Himself,” Jaxom automatically corrected.

   “Or herself,” Piemur added, waggling a finger at the white rider.

   “For the dragon to be anchored securely to the Yokohama,” Aivas finished.

   “Lines? We can get rope or some of that strong fine cable Fandarel’s been extruding,” Piemur suggested.

   “That will not be necessary, as something suitable is already available.”

   “What?” Jaxom asked contritely, realizing that their banter was delaying details that they had wanted to hear for Turns.

   The screen in front of them lit up, showing a graphic of the Yokohama profile. The display altered to a close-up of the long shaft on which the engines were fitted-and the framework of spars that had once held the extra fuel tanks in place.

   “Dragons can hang on the frames!” Jaxom cried. “That would definitely offer a secure grip. And, unless I’ve misread the dimensions, those rails are as long as a Weyr Rim. Imagine, all the Weyrs of Pern, Piemur, out in space, along those girders! What a sight!”

   “The only drawback to that,” Piemur said pragmatically, “is that there aren’t enough space suits for all the riders of Pern.”

   “There will be sufficient space suits available when required,” Aivas informed them calmly, “though not quite all the dragons in the Weyrs of Pern will be needed. Since you are still suited, Lord Jaxom, and have taken nourishment, perhaps you and Ruth would attempt an extravehicular activity today?”

   Piemur’s eyes grew wide and round as he assimilated Aivas’s astounding suggestion. “By the first Egg, it’s not the humans you’ve got to be wary of, Jaxom. It’s Aivas who’s trying to kill you!”

   “Nonsense!” Jaxom replied hotly. But he had felt his stomach leap almost in time to the accelerated beat of his heart at the notion of an EVA. “Ruth?”

   I’ll see a lot more from there than I can from the window was the white dragon’s thoughtful response.

   With a laugh that was only a trifle shaky, Jaxom told Piemur what Ruth had said.

   The harper gave him a long incredulous look and sighed. “I don’t know which of you two is more outrageous. You’d dare anything, the pair of you would.” Then in a wry tone, he added, “And I’m supposed to be the reckless one.”

   “But you aren’t a dragonrider,” Jaxom said gently.

   “The dragon makes the man?” Piemur shot back.

   Jaxom smiled, sending a loving look at Ruth, who was watching the two humans. “With a dragon to guide and guard you, you tend to feel secure.”

   “So long as your riding straps hold” was Piemur’s quick retort. Then he shook his head. “Come to think on it, with Aivas as your mentor, you don’t need to worry about what mere men could do to you.”

   “Lord Jaxom will not be in any jeopardy, Harper Piemur,” Aivas said with customary composure.

   “So you say!” Then Piemur fixed Jaxom with a fierce stare. “So you’re going to do it? Without checking with anyone?”

   Jaxom glared right back, anger rising. “I don’t need to check with anyone, Piemur. I’ve been making my own decisions for a long time, This time I get to make it without anyone else’s interference. Not yours, or F’lar’s, or Lessa’s, or Robinton’s.”

   “Sharra’s?” Piemur cocked his head, his eye contact unswerving.

   It doesn’t seem to be a hard thing Aivas asks us to do, Jaxom, Ruth said. It is no more dangerous than going between, where we have nothing to hold on to. My talons are strong. My grip will be secure for both of us.

   “Ruth sees no problems. If he did, I would certainly listen to him,” Jaxom said, very much aware that Sharra would undoubtedly share Piemur’s reservations. “I don’t know why you’re upset about an EVA. I thought you’d want to be first.”

   Piemur managed a flicker of a smile. “One, I don’t have a dragon to reassure me. Two, I dislike being trussed up in this thing.” He flicked his hand at the space suit. Then his expression changed to a cocky grin. “And three, it’s just likely I’m one of those humans who’d panic out there with solid earth a million dragon-lengths away from my feet. So,” he finished, rising to his feet and reaching for Jaxom’s helmet, “since I can’t talk you out of it, go and do it. Now! Before I get myself in a knot!”

   Jaxom gripped his shoulder. “Don’t forget that Aivas cannot endanger human life. And we’ve seen tapes of spacemen doing EVA drills.”

   So let us go. Ruth pushed himself away from the window with just enough force to arrive by Jaxom. He peered down at Piemur’s scowling face. Tell Piemur that I won’t let anything happen to you.

   “Ruth says he won’t let anything happen to me,” Jaxom said.

   With a roughness born of anxiety, Piemur adjusted Jaxom’s helmet, securing the fastenings, checking the oxytank unit, and gesturing for him to turn on the helmet’s audio.

   “Keep up a running commentary, will you, Jaxom?” he asked.

   “Nod if you can hear me all right.” The sound of his own voice echoing in the confines of the helmet still sounded unnatural to Jaxom.

   Piemur nodded, his expression carefully blank.

   “Aivas, show us where we’re going so Piemur can watch.” Jaxom gave his friend one more buffet and then, pulling first one foot and then the other free of the deck, he floated up to Ruth. Hauling himself into position, he attached his riding straps to the toggles that had been designed to hold snap-on equipment for EVA.

   “You wearing the right riding harness?” Piemur asked acidly.

   “That’s the second time you’ve asked me that today.”

   “Bears repeating. Can you see the screen perched up there?” Piemur’s tone was even more acerbic. Jaxom wished the harper wouldn’t worry so much. But that was yet one more difference that only another rider would understand: the supreme confidence one could have in one’s dragon’s abilities. And Ruth had more than most.

   “I can see it,” he said, his voice high and tinny to his ears.

   Do you know where we’re going, Ruth?

   Certainly. Shall we go?

   Jaxom was accustomed to very short passages between, but this must have been the shortest they had ever taken. One moment they were on the bridge; the next, they were surrounded by a different sort of darkness. For one heartbeat, Jaxom tasted as deep a fear as he had ever known. But Ruth’s head, erect and swinging around as he surveyed the scene. was all the token of reassurance Jaxom needed. Then he became aware-unlike the total lack of sensation in between-of his legs pressing against Ruth’s neck and even the tug of the straps against his belt.

   I won’t let go, Ruth said as calmly as ever. I could hang by my claws. The metal is .so cold it feels hot.

   Jaxom peered down over the lower edge of his helmet and saw that Ruth had, indeed, curled his talons about the spars-two different spars. Carefully the white dragon had extended his forepaw talons to grip the upper bar and had arranged his hind feet on tiptoe, one in front of the other, for a purchase on the lower one, stretching comfortably between the two levels.

   I’m holding my breath, but I am in no discomfort, Ruth continned as he gazed alertly around. His left eye was whirling ever so gently in the blue of interest. Above, Jaxom could see more horizontal spars, a longitudinal framework that circled the engines. Their mass was behind the grid, an immense rectangular boxlike structure in which the matter/antimatter drive provided propulsion for interstellar travel.

   “Are you all right, Jaxom?” Aivas asked.

   “Perfectly,” Jaxom replied. He would have been unwilling to give any other response, but in truth, he felt his muscles relax just a trifle even as he spoke. After all, nothing had happened.

   “Ruth suffers no discomfort?”

   “He says not. He’s holding his breath.”

   I wish to climb higher, for a better view. There is nothing to be seen here but the engines. They are uninteresting. Before Jaxom could forbid him, Ruth had reached for the spar above his head.

   Whatever you do, Ruth, don’t let go entirely, Jaxom said urgently.

   I’d only float.

   Jaxom wondered at his dragon’s nonchalance in this new and dangerous environment. But then, didn’t dragons meet danger head on every time they flew Thread? At least there was none of that here to score the white hide or pierce a fragile wing-or his space suit.

   See? And Ruth did begin to float, rather than climb, upward. Jaxom was so surprised by his dragon’s initiative that he could think of nothing to say. And it doesn’t matter if I float, Ruth went on, because all I have to do is jump between wherever I need to go. Is it not beautiful up here?

   Jaxom had to agree. Ruth had them perched on the topmost rail, and before them, the globe of Pern glowed in brilliant greens and blues: He thought he recognized the Paradise River Hold estuary and, just at the curve of the horizon, the purple hills of Rubicon and Xanadu. Above were the stairs; behind him, shining far too brightly, was Rukbat’s blaze. He thought he caught sunlight glinting off one of the other ships-the Bahrain, no doubt. And far, far above him, at an impossible distance, was the Red Star and the Oort Cloud that the erratic planet would penetrate yet again in another hundred or so Turns.

   Abruptly Meer and Farli appeared floating beside Ruth, blinking out a moment later only to reappear, hanging on to the spar with their claws, daintily keeping their flesh from contact with the absolute chill of the metal. Their eyes began to whirl into excited reds.

   We’re not staying much longer. You d better go in. You can’t hold your breaths as long as I can, Ruth told the two fire-lizards. They say space is much too big, he said to Jaxom. It is also colder than between. I think we will go in now. I feel the need to breathe.

   Once again, before Jaxom could direct the proceeding, Ruth had executed his intention. Almost without ally sensation of transfer, they were back on the bridge of the Yokohama.

   That was splendid! Ruth exclaimed, chirping happily.

   Piemur’s complexion, Jaxom noted, was noticeably pale under his southern tan, and his expression was unusually grim for a man who traversed the Southern coasts for months with only a gold fire-lizard and a runt runnerbeast for company and never lost his sense of humor.

   “Did you have to make Farli and Meer come?”

   “They came of their own accord. Ruth says they think space is too big.” Jaxom laughed at their understatement. “Ruth thoroughly enjoyed it,” he went on, realizing even as he said it how inadequate the comment was. “And so did I,” he added staunchly, picturing again that vision of grandeur and immensity, “once I got used to it.” He undid his helmet and grinned down at Piemur. “No difference really, from between, and not really as dangerous. As Ruth pointed out, all he has to do is go between wherever he wants, so we’d never really be in any danger in space.”

   “You sound to me a bit like a man convincing himself against the evidence of his own senses,” Piemur said, regarding his friend through narrowed eyes.

   “Well, it does take getting used to,” Jaxom repeated, running his fingers through sweat-damp hair and grinning in what he hoped was a more convincing fashion. He wouldn’t admit to Piemur that he had been apprehensive, though he could now appreciate the sour smell of sweat rising from his suit.

   “I wonder,” Piemur went on, “just how Sharra, and Lytol, and Lessa, and F’lar, and Robinton will view your latest escapade.”

   “Once they’ve tried it, they’ll see that it’s not really dangerous. It’s just... a different aspect of travel on a dragon!”

   Piemur let out an exaggerated sigh. “And if you and Ruth can do it, every other dragon and rider on Pern will feel required to follow your example. Is that what you wanted, Aivas?”

   “The result is inevitable, given the friendly competitiveness of dragonriders.”

   Piemur raised both hands in a gesture of resignation. “As I said, with a friend like Aivas, you don’t need enemies!”

   Jaxom had let himself in for a series of harangues once they got back to Landing.

   “True harper instincts!” he remarked acidly to Piemur, when the journeyman bellowed the news to Lytol on the duty desk. His old guardian turned pale and stern, and Jaxom had the satisfaction of seeing Piemur blanch. “Just let’s keep this all in perspective, shall we?” he added, striding to Lytol. “I’m all right, really I am. Ruth wouldn’t put me in danger any more than Aivas would. Someone!” He raised his voice. “I need some help here!”

   Jancis came running down the hall, halted as she took in the scene, and darted into a side room. She was back in a moment with a hot bottle and poured Lytol a cup of klah.

   “Just don’t stand there, Piemur, get some wine. Some of that fortified wine would be best,” she called after him as he scurried for the kitchen. “And just what have you been up to?” she demanded of Jaxom.

   “Nothing as dangerous as springing news on-” Jaxom caught himself before saying “old man.” “-someone with no advance warning or preparation. I gather Aivas did not mention what he had planned for us today.”

   “How could emptying fuel sacks be dangerous?” Jancis asked, her pretty eyes wide with astonishment.

   “I’m perfectly all right,” Lytol insisted. After he had obediently taken several sips of the hot klah his color had improved.

   Piemur burst back into the hall, a wineskin in one hand and several glasses in the fingers of the other. He set these down on the table with more force than needed, but he could see that Lytol was recovering. “I need a drink as much as anyone else,” the harper said, splashing wine into the first glass so sloppily that Jancis, uttering a protest, took the skin from his hand.

   “Thanks. I needed that!” And Piemur downed the glass he had filled and held it out for a refill.

   “You wait your turn,” she scolded.

   Jaxom gestured for her to pour wine into Lytol’s cup and for the older man to drink again.

   “Now, whatever made you attempt such a dangerous maneuver?” Lytol demanded.

   Jaxom sighed. “It wasn’t dangerous. Aivas asked Ruth and me to do an EVA, and we did. Ruth and I were quite safe. He had his claws hooked on that framework around the engine section and I-I was hanging on to him.” Jaxom grinned at the consternation on Jancis’s face.

   “Dragonriders!” In that tone, Jancis’s single word was a profound condemnation.

   “Wouldn’t you agree, Lytol, that a dragon won’t endanger his rider? That a dragon can take himself and his rider anywhere between to safety?” Suddenly Jaxom realized that this was the first time in many Turns that he had asked Lytol to verify draconic abilities. He could see the muscles along his guardian’s jaw clench, and wondered if he had overstepped the bounds of tact.

   Lytol exhaled. “On occasion I have thought that Ruth acted too much on impulse, but you, Jaxom, have always been cautious; thus the two of you balanced each other. He would no more endanger you than you would put his life in jeopardy. But your extravehicular activity should have been discussed beforehand.”

   Piemur shot Jaxom a righteous glare, and Jaxom shrugged.

   “We did it, and we have proved that it can be done with no harm.”

   I am going to sleep in the sun, Ruth told him. You’re going to be talking for hours. I’m glad we didn’t talk about doing it first. It could have taken days to arrive at permission. We might never have gotten to do it.

   Jaxom did not repeat Ruth’s less than diplomatic remarks or his appraisal of talk to come-talk that grew into harangue as Lessa, F’lar, Robinton, and D’ram were informed of the EVA.

   “One more incidence of Aivas’s obsession,” Lessa said, not at all pleased to be summoned to the hastily convened meeting.

   “I wish you would all address the meat of the exercise,”

   Jaxom said with more irritation than he had ever before betrayed in the Benden Weyrleaders’ presence. “The important fact is that it can be done, has been done, and that Aivas says that EVA by dragons and riders is crucial to his plan.”

   They were not in the Aivas chamber, but in the conference room.

   “Why on earth would he want dragons clinging to that bloody framework, thousands of miles above Pern?” F’lar demanded.

   “To accustom dragons to being in space,” Jaxom replied.

   “That’s not all,” Robinton said in a slow, thoughtful tone.

   “No.” D’ram sat erect and alert. “The dragons must move the Yokohama.”

   “Why?” Lessa asked. “What good would that do?”

   “To ram it at the Red Star,” D’ram said.

   Jaxom, Piemur, and F’lar shook their heads.

   “Why not?” Lessa demanded. “That must be why he wanted the fuel in the tanks.”

   Jaxom smiled wryly at her ignorance. “That drop of fuel would not explode on impact, and ramming the Red Star with the Yokohama, ponderous as it is, would not alter its orbit one bit. But I grant you, he needs the dragons to move something.”

   “Let’s ask him!” Robinton suggested, standing and starting for the door. When the others did not move, he turned back at them. “Well, don’t we want to know?”

   “I’m not so sure I do,” Lessa murmured, but she rose and followed the others as they trooped down the hallway to Aivas’s room.

   Jaxom, Jancis, and Piemur closed the doors into the various rooms occupied by students and, when all were inside Aivas’s chamber, that door was closed. Piemur leaned back against it.

   “What do the dragons have to move and where?” F’lar asked with no preamble.

   “So you have perceived part of the plan, Weyrleader.”

   “You mean to use the Yokohama to ram the planet?” Lessa asked, still sure that she had the answer.

   “That would be totally ineffectual, and the Yokohama is needed as a vantage point.”

   “Then what?” F’lar insisted.

   A picture came up of the Red Star, with details gleaned from Wansor’s patient study of the face the planet presented its viewers. A deep chasm could be seen running diagonally across one hemisphere-an unusual feature caused, Aivas had said, by an earthquake of incredible force.

   “You all see this fracture. It is entirely possible that the chasm goes deep into the planet. It is probable that an explosion of sufficient magnitude at this point would have the desired effect of altering the planet’s orbit. Especially when the planet is already perturbed by its proximity to the fifth satellite of this system.” The visual altered to the familiar diagram of the Rukbat system. “Ordinarily an explosion of this magnitude would be impossible to effect. Not only because of the difficulty of amassing the elements required to make such a blast, but because it is nearly impossible to prevent chaotic elements from entering the equations of motion of the Red Star and even of the other planets.

   “It is apparent from Master Wansor’s investigations that the fifth planet is devoid of atmosphere and life. It is also at its farthest distance from Pern. There will be some perturbations throughout the system, but these have been calculated as negligible in the face of the desired result, the relief from any further incursions of Thread on this planet.”

   For a very long moment, no one spoke.

   “We have no such exploding capability,” Jaxom said.

  “You do not. The Yokohama, the Bahrain, and the Buenos Aires do.”

   “What?” F’lar demanded angrily.

   “The engines,” Jaxom said. “The bloody engines. Oh, you are devious, Aivas!”

   “But the engines are dead!” “There’s not enough fuel!” “How would we get them there?” Everyone tried to be heard.

   “The engines are dormant,” Aivas said over the uproar. “But it is the material in the engines that will provide the explosive power. If antimatter is allowed to contact matter without controls, the result will suit your needs.”

   “Now wait a moment-” Jaxom called for order over the babel of questions. “You specifically stated in those engineering lectures to Fandarel that the antimatter is held out of contact with matter in the densest metals Mankind has ever forged. We don’t have the equipment to penetrate those casings. Or is Fandarel working on something we don’t know about’?”

   There was a little pause, and Jaxom found himself agreeing with master Robinton that Aivas seemed to laugh to himself sometimes.

   “It is true that the safety factors built into the great interstellar engines were immensely sophisticated, and that schematics for their design are not available in the engineering data,” Aivas said at last. “But it has long been the case that complex things can be attacked best by simple methods. This facility must also obey the stipulation that you are not to be instructed in levels of technology beyond that of your ancestors. Fortunately you already have an agent that will provide the penetration. You have used it in every Fall for many centuries.”

   “HN0₃!” Piemur said in a gasp.

   “Correct. The metal casings of the matter/antimatter drives are not impervious to its erosive effect.” The visual of the Yokohama’s engine shaft reappeared, but now there were large extraneous tanks placed on the drive cube. “It will take time, which is why there is a wide window of two weeks for this part of the activity, but the acid will penetrate the casings, and once the magnetic chamber is broached, matter and antimatter will self-destruct, causing the cataclysmic explosion necessary to shift the Red Star’s orbit. Any further questions?”

   Jaxom broke the silence that time. “So all the Weyrs of Pern will be needed to take the engines, not the ships, between to the Red Star. To drop them into the chasm?”

   “To drop them might displace the HN0₃ tanks.”

   “How heavy are those engines?” F’lar asked.

   “Their mass is the one weak point of the plan. However, you have constantly stated that the dragons can carry that which they think they can carry.”

   “Correct, but no one has ever asked them to carry engines!” F’lar replied, awed by the scale of the loads.

   Jaxom began to chuckle and received offended stares. “That’s why the bronzes have been exercising in free-fall-to get them used to things being so much lighter in space. Right, Aivas?”

   “That is correct.”

   “So if we don’t tell them how much those bloody things weigh...”

   “Now, really, Jaxom,” F’lar began.

   “No, really, F’lar,” Jaxom replied. “Aivas is applying a valid psychological tactic. I think it’ll work. Especially if we think it can work. Right?” He gave F’lar a challenging look.

   “Jaxom makes a good point,” Lytol said. Beside him, D’ram nodded accord. “With many dragons, all working together... it could be done. No one dragon bearing more than his fair share of the burden, everyone believing that he can succeed. That framework is convenient. Each dragon will be able to grip the load.”

   “With padding on their feet to reduce the effects of spacecold metal,” Aivas added.

   “And take that much weight between?” Lessa asked, still skeptical.

   “You know,” F’lar said, rubbing his jaw speculatively. “I think they could do it-if we think they can. Tell me how Ruth reacted to being in space, Jaxom.”

   “Wait a minute,” Lessa said, holding up her hand, her brow wrinkled in concentration. “How long would such a maneuver take? We could get an engine between, but to go that distance between...”

   “You and your queen Ramoth traveled backward in time...”

   “And nearly died,” F’lar said, his tone as bitter as the look he gave his weyrmate for the anguish he had suffered then.

   “The riders will all have oxygen-which is doubtless what you lacked, Weyrwoman-to breathe, and protective suits.”

   “There aren’t that many!” D’ram protested.

   “Not yet,” Piemur said, his eyes glinting, “but Hamian’s turning out the plastic-coated fabric faster than Master Nicat’s men can glue the pieces together.”

   “From what has been said by every rider interviewed, only eight seconds elapse to reach most destinations here on Pern,” Aivas went on. “Of those eight seconds, the dragons seem to use a basic five or so to assimilate their coordinates, and the rest of the time for the actual transfer. Using this premise and adapting it to a logarithmic computation, assume that travel takes I second for 1,600 kilometers, 2 seconds for 10,000, 3.6 seconds for 100,000, and 4.8 for I million and 7 to 10 seconds for 10 million. While this method of transference is still incomprehensible to this facility, it does appear to work. Therefore, knowing the approximate distance from Pern to the Red Star, it is easy to compute an interplanetary jump. It has also been established that dragons are able to function for fifteen minutes before their systems are in oxygen debt-more than enough time to make the journey, position the engines in the chasm, and return. The dragons are accurate fliers.”

   “I’d want to try that journey,” F’lar said. Lessa turned on him, but before she could speak, he went on. “Love, if we believe in our dragons, we can believe in our own abilities, as well. Before I ask the Weyrs to undertake such a trip, I must be sure it is feasible, and I won’t risk anyone. Not this time!” Everyone knew he was alluding to F’nor’s nearly fatal attempt to reach the Red Star so many Turns before. “Is there any air to breathe on the Red Star?”

   “No,” Aivas replied. “Certainly not breathable atmosphere, but there is some, mostly noble gases and nitrogen. Whatever denser atmosphere it once had would have been lost when it escaped from its original system. There is no water, as repeated circuits past Rukbat have boiled off much of its volatiles, too. F’nor has seen this in process. Gravity on the surface would be not much more than one-tenth of Pern’s, so the atmosphere is much less dense than what you are accustomed to.”

   “You will not take such a perilous expedition by yourself, F’lar,” D’ram said, rising to his feet, his expression resolute.

   “D’ram...” Robinton reached for the old dragonrider’s arm, while Lytol’s expression was both pitying and approving.

   “D’ram, this is a young man’s duty,” the ex-warder said, shaking his head sadly. “You have long since done yours.”

   “F’lar?” Lessa’s face was screwed up in an anxious grimace, as if she couldn’t deny him but wanted desperately to do so. She shook her head, her gray eyes wide with fright, as she realized that nothing she could say would dissuade him.

   “I will go,” the Weyrleader repeated.

   “Not by yourself,” Jaxom said, shaking his head. “I’ll go with you.” He held his hands up to silence the others, but had little effect. He raised his voice over the uproar. “Ruth. always knows where he is and when he is. No other dragon has that ability, and you all know it. I’ll go without permission if you keep on at me like this!” He allowed his anger to be seen as he glared at Lytol, Robinton, and D’ram. Lessa glared back, but she didn’t join in the arguments.

   “Jaxom, you may not come with me,” F’Iar stated. “You’ve responsibilities-”

   “I’m going, and that’s that. I trust Ruth as you trust Mnementh. Let’s keep this expedition down to as few as possible. Right?”

   “What happens, though,” Robinton said, his composure recovered, “if the one man”-and he gestured to F’lar-“who can keep this planet united and the young Lord Holder who has earned the respect of Hall, Hold, and Weyr should be lost to Pern at this very critical stage?”

   F’lar gave a rueful laugh. “I don’t intend to be lost, and if I will not go where I expect the Weyrs to follow, how can I ask them to go?” He took Lessa by the arms, appealing to her. “I must go, Lessa. Surely you see that.”

   “I do,” she snapped. “But I don’t have to like it. Furthermore, I’ll go with you two fools!” She laughed at the startled reactions. “Why not? There’re plenty of queens now to continue dragonkind. Ramoth’s still the largest dragon on the planet and the bravest, going where no one dared go before. I think we three deserve the right!” She lifted her chin, haughtily oblivious to persuasions. “When do we go?”

   Piemur let go a bark of laughter. “Just like that?”

   “Why not? We don’t have Threadfall for another two days. Jaxom?”

   Three dragons bugled from the mounds beyond the building. Lessa, F’lar, and Jaxom smiled.

   “I won’t tell Sharra.” He paused while Jancis savagely muttered something to the effect that Sharra wouldn’t let him go. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Jancis,” he said, giving her a quelling look. “But there are a few things I must put in order. And to be perfectly candid, I’d like a good night’s sleep. It’s been a busy day!”

   “Tomorrow then?” Lessa said, pinning him with a fierce stare.

   “Certainly! I’ll send Meer to Ruatha with a message that I’m staying over at Cove Hold.”

   “A good idea,” F’lar said, quirking one eyebrow in amusement. “Mnementh is pretty excited... ‘

   “Ramoth, too,” Lessa said, and frowned. “We can’t risk some other dragon sensing what we plan. There are fortunately no other dragons at Landing right now.”

   The three riders discussed with Aivas and the others every aspect of their unprecedented leap between. As the riders became more and more confident of success, the others began to cease their opposition, lapsing into nearly morose silence.

   “If we do not leave soon,” Robinton said into a pause as the three dragonriders were studying their landing site at the highest magnification Aivas could produce, “some of our more perceptive students will start speculating about the length of this meeting.”

   “A good point,” Mar said cheerfully. “Aivas, can you print out a copy of what’s on the screen right now? We can study it further at Cove Hold.”

   “I’d’ve thought it was burned in your brains already,” Lytol remarked caustically.

   “Nearly,” Jaxom replied gaily. He was buoyed by the confidence that F’lar and Lessa exuded, not realizing that each was infecting the other. Jaxom had not missed Lytol’s frequent brooding looks, but after those first protests, his old guardian had only been silently reproachful.

   Aivas printed three copies.

   “This facility would not recommend such an exploration if any foreseeable danger was involved,” Aivas said to reassure the skeptics.

   “Foreseeable is the important word,” Lytol said, and walked out.

15

   “I’VE NEVER SEEN so many fire-lizards!” Jancis exclaimed as she helped Piemur and Jaxom wash Ruth in Cove Hold’s lagoon.

   Lessa, F’lar, and D’ram were similarly occupied, assisted by other members of the Cove Hold research staff. Lytol and Robinton had gone to oversee the preparation of the evening meal. The atmosphere was tense with anticipation, and Jaxom hoped that the stress would not be communicated to the Hold people; fortunately it was not unusual for the Benden Weyrleaders and the Ruathan Holder to enjoy Cove’s hospitality.

   Ruth, have the fire-lizards twigged tomorrow’s journey? Jaxom asked. He refused to think of it as an “attempt,” which implied the possibility of failure.

   They’re excited because I am. Ramoth and Mnementh are, too. Look at their eyes! But the little ones don’t know why they’re excited.

   Jaxom put some extra effort into scrubbing Ruth’s left wing. There were hundreds of questions rattling about in his brain, but to settle on any one of them and find an answer was beyond him. This was not at all like the day that he and Ruth had gone hunting for Ramoth’s queen egg. He had been a boy then, struggling to achieve manhood, to be both Lord Holder and dragonrider and to avert a major confrontation between the Southern Oldtimers and Benden Weyr. This also wasn’t as spontaneous an acceptance of challenge as that morning’s EVA had been. This was a planned expedition to be made in the company of two of the most important people on Pern.

   And the three best dragons, Ruth added.

   Aware that his roiling thoughts might also leak to the fire-lizards, Jaxom earnestly pulled soothing images to the fore in his mind. Just then a fire-lizard arrived from between with the faint pop of reentry. It was Meer-in all the excitement, Jaxom hadn’t even noticed that he had disappeared.

   So it did not exactly surprise him when Sharra strode into the Hold while they were finishing their dinner. Still, he had no idea what Meer might have conveyed to her, so he decided he would be best off playing innocent.

   “Darling, what an unexpected surprise,” he said, rising to greet her with an embrace. “There’s nothing the matter at Ruatha, is there?” he added with a fair pretense of alarm. He ignored Piemur, who was rolling his eyes.

   “No, nothing’s wrong at Ruatha,” Sharra said in the tone that always made him wary. But she smiled with genuine warmth at the others. “It’s just that the biology team is starting the dissection tomorrow. Mirrim said shed convey me up. G’lanar pointblank refused. I hope I’m not interrupting...”

   She was disabused of that notion by offers of klah from Lessa, wine from Robinton, and sweet breads from Jancis, while Piemur hastily drew another chair up to the table.

   “G’lanar bring you?” D’ram asked.

   As she nodded, Jaxom left Piemur to settle his wife and strode out to the porch to offer hospitality to the Oldtimer. But Lamoth and his rider were already airborne, circling to the east above the lagoon, disappearing into the night sky.

   “I didn’t catch him,” Jaxom said. “He ought to have at least joined us for a cup.”

   D’ram brushed away Jaxom’s discontent. “G’lanar was always a surly one. How does he happen-to be at Ruatha these days?”

   Jaxom grinned. “The weyrling we had was judged old enough to fight and was sent to join K’van’s wings. He asked us to accommodate G’lanar and Lamoth in their stead. The old bronze sleeps almost as much as G’lanar does.”

   “It does them both good to feel needed,” Sharra said, her eyes glittering at Jaxom although her tone was social.

   Jaxom wondered what on earth Meer had conveyed to her that had brought her to Cove Hold. His own message had been innocuous enough: the Egg knew staying over at Cove Hold was nothing out of the ordinary. But he was glad to see her.

   It was also very like Sharra to say nothing to the point in company. But he began to worry about how to dissemble when they were alone in their sleeping quarters. As the dragonriders whiled away the after-dinner hours, no hint of their morning’s plans was raised-partly because the young men and women of the Archive were present but especially because Sharra was there.

   “I’ve a new song from Menolly,” Master Robinton said, gesturing for Piemur to bring him his gitar and to get his own. He unrolled the score, passing a copy to Jancis to put on the rack for Piemur. “An odd tune, unusual for our Masterharper Menolly. She says the words were written by young Harper Elimona,” he went on, plucking a string to tune the instrument. Piemur corrected the pitch of his and, reading the music, soundlessly fingered through the chords. “But a lovely haunting melody and words to lift hearts at this point in a Pass.”

Then he nodded to Piemur and they began. Having sung and played so often together, they interwove and harmonized as if they had rehearsed the brand-new song a hundred times already.

A heart that’s true in harper blue makes song from heart’s own fire, and though betrayed, is not afraid: in danger, leaps up higher.

   Jaxom suppressed the start of surprise the words gave him, and dared not look at either Lessa or F’lar.

No world is free of minstrelsy, nor noise, nor rage, nor sorrow. A harper must discharge his trust before he asks to borrow.

My Harper Hall is free to all who serve with song and playing. But you who d hide your song inside are very sadly straying.

   At those words, Jaxom wondered what cryptic message Menolly and Elimona were giving, and to whom. The next verse was even more germane to the problem of those who considered Aivas to be “the Abomination.”

   Will you withdraw beyond the law, lie safely in your slumber, while dangers shake your world awake and Death makes up his number?

   Did harper here betray those dear he’d feel more than my tongue. If place you’ll earn, you’d better learn more music than you’ve sung.

   For if you die, while safe you lie halled in your selfish bone, no chant will come, no harper drum, and you’ll lie long alone.

   Jaxom, watching Robinton’s face as he sang, wondered if the words could possibly have been prompted by Robinton or Sebell, who so often suggested themes to their harpers. But then, Menolly had such an uncanny knack of catching exactly the mood of the moment that this could have been merely serendipitous. The two harpers played a bridging passage; then their voices, which had been light and almost taunting, deepened for the final verse.

Get up, take heart-o, make a start, sing out the truth you came for. Then when you die, your heart may fly to halls we have no name for.

   As the last chord died away there was a respectful silence before the audience burst into loud applause. Robinton and Piemur disclaimed humbly, Robinton saying that with such music any harper would find himself doing his very best.

   “Who’s next?” Piemur asked, strumming his gitar into a complicated alteration, minor to major.

   The next hour was spent happily enough so that Jaxom relaxed, holding Sharra’s hand and playing with her long fingers and trying to ignore the distance she had put between them. Talla was coiled up on her shoulder, but he saw nothing of Meer.

   Ruth, did Meer tattle on us? he asked when Sharra was occupied in singing descant for one of her favorite songs.

   He has curled up on the beach and pretends to be asleep. What could he tell her that would make sense?

   Sharra’s perceptive, Ruth. She could guess.

   She knows you are always safe with me.

   But she also doesn’t want me risking my neck... more than I already do.

   She will not refuse you, Ruth added encouragingly, though his tone held a nuance of doubt.

   At last Lessa called an end to the evening’s entertainment, murmuring something about never quite becoming accustomed to double-ended days. Robinton acted the perfect host, making certain, with Jancis’s help, that all the guests were comfortably installed; his behavior was so calm and ordinary that when Sharra and Jaxom were alone in their usual corner room, she frowned in puzzlement.

   “Why was Meer so agitated, Jaxom?”

   “He was? Not much happened today.” He began to pull his shirt off, which served to muffle his voice and hide his face lest his expression give him away. Sharra had become adept at reading him, a skill that usually smoothed matters between them, but this time he really didn’t want to risk upsetting her unnecessarily. He had written notes for Brand and for her and given them to Piemur-not that he expected that Piemur would have to deliver them, but he had to plan for contingencies. “Anyone at Ruatha got a randy green or gold?” he continued as nonchalantly as possible.

   He could see her considering that possibility. “I don’t think so,” she said finally. “Are you all going up to the Yokohama tomorrow?”

   “Yes.” Jaxom gave her his best grin, which he expanded into a yawn as he gestured for her to climb in first. When she was settled, he lay down and put his arm around her, cushioning her head on his shoulder as he so often did-only now he did it consciously, not merely in response to the habits of five Turns.

   “What’s the schedule?” she asked.

   “More of the same. Getting accustomed to free-fall.”

   “Why?”

   “Well, Aivas let us in on that today,” Jaxom said, choosing his words carefully. “Seems like all the Weyrs of Pern are going to be needed to hoist the engine part of the ships to that big rift on the Red Star.”

   “What?”

   He pushed her back down in the bed, grinning at her astonished expression, clearly visible in the moonlight flooding the room. “That’s what I said. He’s going to call our bluff that dragons can lift anything they think they can.”

   “But-but-why?”

   “Those engines will be made to blow up, and the force of the explosion will nudge the Red Star into a new orbit.”

   “Oh my!”

   Jaxom grinned. It took something as fantastic as that to reduce his beloved to an incredulous whisper. He pulled her close enough to lay a kiss on her forehead, meaning only to reassure her. But as his lips touched her soft skin and his nostrils inhaled the spicy fragrance she used, he felt desire well up inside of him. And, though at first her response was reflexive while she was still mulling over his news, he had no trouble in getting her complete attention.

   Later, he was awakened by the scratch of a fire-lizard claw on his cheek. It was Meer, his sense of smell told him-and a Meer who was worried and puzzled.

   Jaxom! Ruth’s anxious tone reinforced Meer’s warning. There is someone in the hall by your door. Meer senses danger. I’m coming!

   For the love of the egg that hatched you, keep him quiet right now, Jaxom told Ruth. And be as quiet as you can.

   You know how quietly I can move, Ruth replied, slightly aggrieved.

   I want this one alive-and identifiable!

   Carefully, so as not to disturb Sharra or alert the intruder, Jaxom rolled out of the bed and went for his belt and the knife sheathed there. In the darkness, Meer blinked orange-red eyes that were whirling in a gradually increasing speed, but the little bronze made no move.

   An alteration in the shadows of the room told Jaxom that the door was being stealthily opened. He stayed where he was crouched, muscles relaxed but every fiber of him ready to move.

   The door shadows separated into a crouching figure, knife holding hand raised in a strike position as the intruder crept toward the bed-then paused. Realizing that the man had discerned that only Sharra lay in the bed, Jaxom sprang, encircling the figure with his arms.

   “Oh no you don’t!” he cried in a hoarse whisper, still not wanting to wake Sharra. But there was no hope of that.

   Meer, swooping at the man’s face while Jaxom struggled to hold him, bugled with no regard for sleeping folk. Outside, Ruth bellowed, and half the fire-lizard population of the Cove tried to fly in through the open window.

   Though the man struggled, breathing hoarsely in his desperation, Jaxom was the victor of far too many wrestling matches to have his hold broken easily. But he didn’t quite avoid the slashing blade, which scored his bare shoulder. Cursing, Jaxom grabbed the dagger hand and, twisting it in a move F’lessan had taught him, broke the man’s wrist. The attacker crumpled, crying aloud in pain just as F’lar, Piemur, Lytol, and D’ram came bursting into the room. Someone behind them was carrying an open glowbasket, and light spilled past the reinforcements to fall on the face of the man Jaxom had downed.

   “G’lanar!” Jaxom fell back in surprise and shock.

   The old bronze rider snarled up at him, batting at the shrieking fire-lizards who were still swooping at him, claws extended.

   “G’lanar?” D’ram grabbed the man by the arm and, with F’lay’s help, hauled him to his feet.

   Jaxom told Ruth to call the fire-lizards off and, still screaming their challenge, the fair swooped back out the window.

   Sharra stared from the bed as Jancis and Lessa crowded into the room, each holding a bright basket.

   “What did you intend, G’lanar?” F’lar demanded, his voice coldly implacable.

   “He’s to blame...” G’lanar cried, spitting in his fury, cradling his broken wrist to his chest.

   Jaxom stared down at the old rider. “Blame?”

   “You! I know who it was now! It was you-and that white runt that ought to have died the moment it was born!” Outside, Ruth roared exception to the insult, then thrust his head through the window. “If it hadn’t been for you, we ‘d’ve had our own fertile queen! We’d’ve had a chance!”

   Jaxom shook his head slightly, trying to understand the accusation. So few knew that he and Ruth had recovered the abducted queen egg from Benden Weyr. How had G’lanar learned?

   “So it was you who cut the riding straps?” Jaxom demanded.

   “Yes, yes, I did, and I’d’ve got you. I’d’ve kept trying till I did. Nor wept if your woman had died that morning. Save Pern from more like you and that abortion!”

   “And you, a dragonrider, would seek the death of another?” D’ram’s scorn and horror made G’lanar flinch-but only briefly.

   “Yes, yes, yes!” His voice climbed in fury and frustration. “Yes! Unnatural man, unnatural dragon! Abominations as vile as that Aivas thing you worship.” G’lanar’s eyes glittered; his features were contorted.

   “That’s enough of that,” F’lar said, stepping forward purposefully.

   “It is! Enough!” Before either Jaxom, who had stepped back from the man, or F’lar, who was moving toward him, could act, G’lanar plunged his dagger into his own breast.

   His action shocked everyone to immobility.

   “Oh, no!” Jaxom breathed, dropping to the man’s side and feeling for the throat pulse. With the rider dead, the dragon would suicide. Had G’lanar’s thrust been true? His heart quailed, waiting for the keen all dragonriders dreaded to hear.

   Ruth had pulled his head from the window, and Jaxom could see him, rearing back on his haunches and stretching to his full height, wings spread to balance him. The sound he uttered was muted, an oddly strangled noise. There were other sounds in the night, and then Ramoth and Mnementh landed outside the room, deepening the shadows.

   Lamoth dies. In shame. Ruth sank back to the ground, wings limp against his back, his head low. They were mistaken to steal Ramoth’s egg. We only set matters right. I am not an abomination or unnatural. And you are a very natural man, Jaxom. How can Aivas be wrong when he does everything to help us?

   Lessa moved to Jaxom and lifted him up from the dead man; her eyes watered with tears and her expression was dreadful, but her hands were gentle. Sharra, wrapping the sheet around herself, ran to him and put her arms around him, draping a corner of the sheet over his nudity.

   “I don’t understand this,” D’ram said, running trembling fingers through his thick, gray hair. “How could he so corrupt the truth? How could he seek the life of another dragonrider?”

   “There have been moments,” Lessa said in a broken voice, “when I wonder what good I did bringing the five Weyrs forward.”

   “No, Lessa.” D’ram. recovered from regret to touch her shoulder supportively. “You did what was necessary. So did Jaxom, though I never realized it was he who saved that situation.” He shot an approving look at the young Lord Holder.

   “Why did no one realize that G’lanar harbored such a grievance?” F’lar demanded.

   “I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” Lessa said resolutely. “I’d thought the Weyrs were united in this project! Surely even Oldtimers are! They’ve fought two lives’ worth of Thread...”

   D’ram was scrubbing at his face, shaking his head, his shoulders hunched against the night’s treachery. “Every Oldtimer I’ve spoken to-and there are few enough of us old ones now, and all the younger riders are definitely in accord with Benden. Everyone sees the help, the training, the promise Aivas holds out as the culmination of the Weyr objective since the first egg hatched. The project has given us all hope at this critical point in a Pass.”

   “Ramoth has started speaking to the other queens,” Lessa said, her voice strained. “We’ll know by morning if there are any other disaffected riders in any Weyr.”

   “I’ll take care of this,” F’lar said, gesturing to Piemur and Jaxom to help him with G’lanar’s body.

   “No, I will,” D’ram said, stepping over the corpse to heave it over his shoulders. His face was devoid of expression, but his cheeks were tearstained. “He was a good rider before he went South with Mardra and T’ton.”

   The others stepped back so he could pass with his sad burden. Sharra handed Jaxom his long-tailed riding shirt, and as he slipped into it gratefully, she hurriedly pulled on a tunic. The night breeze was chilly. She went past Jaxom to the door.

   “A cup of hot wine is indicated,” she said, and Jancis followed her to the kitchen.

   Sharra had added something to the wine, Jaxom decided when he woke and found morning well started. She was still asleep beside him, so he assumed that she had taken her own medicine. A boon for him, since he had no intention of delaying that day’s plan. He eased out of the bed, scooped up his clothing, and went to dress in the head. When he entered the main room, he found Lessa cradling a cup of klah in her hands while F’lar, a set expression on his face, was spooning cereal into his mouth. Without a word, the Weyrwoman rose and filled a cup and a bowl for Jaxom.

   “Is everyone else still asleep?”

   Lessa shook her head. “Piemur and Jancis have gone to Landing with D’ram and Lytol. Robinton’s to sleep himself out.” She took another sip of klah. “Ramoth says the queens report no other traitors in our midst.” Her tone was as bleak as her eyes. “She says that Southern’s queen is inexperienced and Adrea too young to understand G’lanar’s grievances. However, apparently old G’lanar had begun to get quite testy, going off a lot on his own after Tillek. When S’rond was due to join the fighting wings at Southern Weyr, G’lanar begged for the duty at Ruatha. That would have made me suspicious!”

   “Why?” F’lar asked. “Ruatha’s the duty everyone wants.” He gave Jaxom an encouraging smile and spooned more sweetener over the remains of his porridge.

   Noticing that, Lessa opened her mouth to scold and then shut it, looking away in her disgruntlement. F’lar winked at Jaxom, pretending relief.

   “No, the Oldtimers who chose to go south with Mardra and T’ton were already antagonistic to Benden’s aims,” the Weyrleader said, “as much because Benden suggested them. G’lanar would’ve brooded long enough, ripe for any scheme to support his grievances. And we already know there’s a fair number who see Aivas as an Abomination.”

   “There may be more after today,” Lessa muttered.

   F’lar dropped his spoon with a clatter. “No one’s going to know about today...”

   She shook her head, surprised at his remark. “I didn’t mean what we plan to do,” she said with some exasperation. “I meant, G’lanar’s death. Well, the Weyrs know the old fellow died but certainly not why. We can at least keep the attack quiet.”

   F’lar shot an anxious look at Jaxom, who shrugged acquiescence. He certainly didn’t wish to have the story bruited about.

   “That’s what D’ram’s going to insure: that everyone thinks old G’lanar suffered a brainstorm.”

   “That’s lame. The dragons’ll know...”

   “Ramoth says not. Lamoth had gone to sleep in the clearing, totally unaware of what G’lanar was doing here. Of course, he knew when G’lanar died, and he floundered between somehow. To be doubly cautious, D’ram means to speak to each of the remaining Oldtimers. Tiroth may not be a queen, but no dragon could hide his heart from that bronze.”

   “How,” Jaxom asked, “did G’lanar realize that Ruth and I rescued Ramoth’s egg?”

   “Have you been timing it much lately?” Lessa asked bluntly.

   Jaxom tried to shrug the question away. “Not often.”

   Lessa raised her eyebrows in resignation. “I keep telling you that timing it is dangerous. It was bloody sure dangerous for you. Lamoth would have known. He would have told G’lanar. G’lanar was misguided but not stupid. I know that all the Oldtimers at Southern have puzzled over who rescued the egg. In spite of our precautions, they all know Ruth’s abilities and might have suspicions.”

   “G’lanar’s the only bronze rider left from that group,” Jaxom said, after a quick mental review.

   “We have a more important task to perform today than to fret over this incident,” F’lar said, rising to clear the table of his bowl and cup. “That is, if you feel up to it, Jaxom...”

   Jaxom regarded F’lar scornfully. “I’ve been waiting on you. Let’s do it.”

   “From here, or the Yokohama?” Lessa asked.

   “The Yokohama,” Jaxom said, grabbing his riding gear from the bench beside him. “We don’t have the space suits down here.”

   “You’re sure there’s one to fit me?” Lessa asked, shrugging into her leather jacket.

   Jaxom grinned. “There’re two small ones. One ought to fit, even if we have to truss you up some.” As he came out onto the porch, Meer chirped at him. “Lessa, to preserve my image in my wife’s eyes, would you ask Ramoth to keep Meer from following me today? Ask her to tell him I’m safe with you two.”

   Lessa quirked her eyebrow, grinning up at him. “You’re sure of that?”

   Tucks had to be taken in the arms and legs and waist of the smallest of the suits, which caused some amusement to F’lar and Jaxom but none to Lessa. They contacted Aivas when they were ready to proceed. He brought up their objective, the immense long scar on the Red Star, on the screen in the cargo bay.

   F’lar frowned at it again, not so much in order to imprint the scene firmly into his mind as to rationalize what he was seeing.

   “When F’nor made his flight to the Red Star, he said there were roiling clouds...”

   “There probably were,” Aivas replied easily. “In orbiting so close to Rukbat, the planet’s surface would have become heated, hot enough to melt rock and certainly causing steam from the ice that coats Thread ovoids. It can be posited that the planet itself is coated with the debris of the Oort Cloud. Steam or dust clouds of considerable density are entirely possible. That is undoubtedly what F’nor saw, not the actual surface. His memories of the event, even the abrasive injuries he and Canth sustained, bear out the supposition, At this point in its orbit, the surface has cooled, that phenomenon has subsided, and you see a sterile planet, its surface slowly freezing again.”

   “Well, let’s do it!” F’lar vaulted to Mnementh’s shoulder, grabbing the riding straps to swing himself to his customary position between neck ridges.

   Despite free-fall, Lessa moved more clumsily.

   “How anyone can be expected to move anywhere in this sort of gear...” she muttered, finally settling herself in place. She had a bit of trouble snapping the riding straps onto rings lost in the folds about her middle. “Can’t see what I’m doing, trussed up like a wherry. for the spit, and this helmet obscuring my sight...”

   Jaxom grinned at her and looked toward F’lar. “Are you leading this expedition?”

   Something like a growl came over Jaxom’s helmet com and he chuckled.

   “Do our dragons know where we’re going?” Lessa asked. She held her suited arm up high above her head, looking first to the left at F’lar and then to the right at Jaxom; all three were concentrating on the image of that tremendous fault. “Very well, then, let’s go!” And she dropped her arm.

   Jaxom counted as Ruth shifted them between. He remembered to continue breathing, an exercise he frequently suspended on such trips. He didn’t think of the blackness or the frightening cold of the familiar oblivion: he thought only of where they were going...

   I know where we’re going, Ruth assured him patiently .

   ...and how long it was taking them. Jaxom had counted twenty-seven slow seconds, seconds that seemed an eternity. He wondered if Lessa had counted when she had gone back four hundred Turns to-

   And then the three dragons emerged simultaneously over a chasm that made Ruth extend his wings uselessly in an attempt to slow his entry in the light gravity and thin atmosphere.

   “Aivas?” Jaxom cried, though in the next second he knew that they were too far from Aivas for any contact.

   “Shards! Jaxom, we can handle this without his supervision!” F’lar roared. He moderated his tone as he went on. “There are times when I think we’ve gotten too dependent on Aivas. Slow your descent, Jaxom! We want to land on the edge, not in that bloody rift.”

   Just beyond Ruth, the rift widened into a crater more immense than the Ice Lake. Jaxom’s body gave a massive shudder, and he had the most incredible feeling that he had expected to see that crater all along, though the detail had not been on the visuals. To center his wandering attention, he concentrated on the rim below him, and in the next breath, Ruth obediently glided to the hard-packed surface of the planet, his wings fully extended. Mnementh and Ramoth, necks stretched out and eyes whirling in a brilliant rainbow expressing their consternation, landed gracefully beside him.

   “Quickly, now, mark those boulders...” F’lar pointed to the huge stone shafts that made a rim, like so many immense jagged teeth, across the mouth of the huge aperture.

   “That crater’s a fine landmark,” Jaxom commented.

   This place is strangely familiar, Ruth said, walking forward to peer over the edge.

   Watch it! Jaxom warned his dragon as Ruth’s feet sank into what appeared to be a mass of oval shapes. “Look, F’lar! Thread ovoids.”

   F’lar peered over Mnementh’s shoulder while the big bronze dropped his head to examine the surface under his feet. He didn’t appear particularly concerned.

   “I don’t like this place,” Lessa commented. Ramoth seemed to share her distaste, placing her feet with extreme care as if she were walking through putrid mud.

   “And watch that edge, too, Jaxom,” F’lar added.

   Ramoth was looking straight ahead, trying to see to the other side of the gorge. Jaxom could not see the far side in the dim light available. When he looked over his shoulder toward Rukbat, he had no trouble looking directly at the dim sun, but it did give sufficient light for him to pick out details of the terrain beyond the canyon. Not that there was much to see. The surface of the Red Star was pocked and slagged, minor fissures and fractures spreading out from the immense fault across what looked more like bare rock than sand. The black chasm stretched in both directions into the tenebrous distance. Jaxom looked behind him. There were some jagged projections, from small terraces to great sheets that would have taken up most of Benden’s Bowl. An appallingly sterile landscape. Jaxom could almost feel sorry for the battered planet.

   It’s a long way across, isn’t it? Ruth remarked.

   You can see across it? Jaxom asked, squinting in the dismal gloom at the shadowy far edge.

   There isn’t much to see but more of the same.

   “See how those levels are situated?” F’lar said, peering down. “We could settle the engines along them.”

   “Are they stable enough to hold that sort of weight?” Lessa asked.

   F’lar shrugged. “I don’t know why not. Don’t you feel how much lighter we are here? The engines should weigh less, too. And look at the size of the slabs! Gigantic.”

   “Like teeth. You know, this looks as if some force broke the planet’s surface as you or I would open a redfruit,” Lessa said, her voice awed.

   Ruth, can you drop down to that first level of rock? Take it easy now. We want to see how stable the protrusion actually is.

   “Easy now, Jaxom!” F’lar cautioned, raising one hand as if to cancel the experiment.

   There was plenty of wing space, and Ruth delicately lowered himself in the thin atmosphere past the lip of the canyon and down onto the first stone sheet. He dislodged a small boulder, which continued to fall. Jaxom listened for a long moment.

   Have you got all your weight on this, Ruth? Jaxom asked.

   Jaxom could feel Ruth grunting as he bent his knees and pressed downward.

   It’s not going anywhere. And I don’t weigh so much here.

   True. “We should have brought some lights,” Jaxom told the others, peering along the stone protrusion. “But this shelf looks plenty long enough to hold even the Yokohama’s engine. D’you want me and Ruth to see how far down we can go before the canyon closes up?”

   “Shards! No!” F’lar said. “What you’re doing is dangerous enough.”

   “How much time has elapsed?” Lessa asked. “The dragons have only so much air in their bodies.”

   “We’re only seven minutes here,” Jaxom said after glancing at the built-in suit chronometer. As a leader, he was wearing one of the original space suits, not one of those Hamian had so cleverly contrived.

   “C’mon up out of there, Jaxom,” F’lar said. “If the jaws of that canyon should snap shut...”

   Jaxom, who had been thinking the same thing, was quite willing to comply. Beating his wings much faster than he’d need to on Pern, Ruth rose from the black chasm, facing the other two dragons.

   “This would be one likely site then,” F’lar said. “I’ll go up, you go down. Lessa, see what the other rim is like. How much time, Jaxom?”