“The timing’s wrong, Aivas. I cannot be in two places at once. Nor doing that kind of timing without a respite. Ruth doesn’t have auxiliary oxygen.”
“You missed the point about insufficient space suits. Your team will have to get out of their suits and turn them over to the members of the second unit. That should allow Ruth sufficient time to regain energy. You will, of course, be certain that he eats well beforehand and can feed immediately afterward to restore himself.”
I could do it the way Aivas suggests,
Ruth said amiably.
“I haven’t said I’ll risk us!” Jaxom roared, bringing both fists down on the console with such force that he hurt his hands. Rubbing them, he grumbled to himself.
“You already have, or there would not be two craters on the Rift, and there would not have been records of bright flashes.”
“You’re inveigling me, Aivas. And I’m not going to let you.”
“You already have, Lord Jaxom. You are the only one who can, could, would, has. Think this proposal over carefully and you will see that the project is not only within the capabilities of yourself and Ruth, but feasible. And essential! Three explosions at
this
point in time will not have the desired effect on the future path of the Red Star.”
Jaxom sighed deeply, almost as if he already felt it needful to fill his lungs for a jump timed eighteen hundred Turns away. His mind refused to settle into a logical examination of the affair.
“Since this is a confessional moment, tell me why you are so obsessed with this project you’ve involved Sharra in? Especially,” he added with an ironic laugh, “if you say you know I’ve already succeeded even before I’ve begun.”
“You do succeed, and there is an easy way to prove it,” Aivas said, his tone not quite ingratiating but as close to that as Jaxom had ever heard.
“No, first explain to me about these zebedee things.”
“It is extrapolated by the closer examination of the Thread ovoids that there is life, not as you know it, and not even as we see it brought here by the Red Star, but a whole ecology of life-forms throughout the Oort Cloud. Some of them are probably quite intelligent, judging by the complexity of their nervous systems; but when they arrive here, they have lost most of their liquid helium and so can be termed only ‘rude mechanicals.’ It is these degenerate, warmth-tolerating forms that make it to the surface of Pern; they don’t live long enough to replicate themselves there, of course, or on the Red Planet. It is only these ‘mechanicals’ that can reproduce without helium in Pern’s orbit. But if these mechanicals could be contaminated, infected with our disimproved parasite, they would carry it with them to destroy all similar life-forms in the Oort Cloud itself, probably including the more intelligent ones, too. Then, no matter what happens, Pern will forever be freed of this menace. That is why there were Long Intervals: The disimproved zebedees that you will establish—have established long ago—on the surface of the Red Planet, twice in the past and once in the future will infect the Cloud when the Red Star cuts through it twice in every orbit.”
“I’m also to be a disease carrier?” Jaxom was not sure which he felt more keenly: indignation, fury, or incredulity at the audacity of Aivas’s scheme.
“You will seed the Red Star three times. That is why it is so important to breed up the disimproved zebedees. A triple thrust in two different areas.”
“But if I’m to blow the planet out of orbit . . .”
“The perturbation will be slight, and you can seed the zebedees at a sufficient distance from the Rift to insure their safety. There will be plenty of host ovoids on the planet’s surface as well as in orbit around it.”
“We saw them on the surface, not in orbit.”
“Were you looking for them?”
“Not in space. Now, tell me how you can prove to me that all these incredible designs of yours will work—have worked!”
“It is very simple. Access the file that gives you a graph of the Red Star’s current orbit.”
Jaxom had no trouble doing that. The all-too-familiar diagram filled the screen.
“Hold that on the monitor,” Aivas instructed.
Jaxom pressed out that command.
“Now, if you will mount Ruth, you can go forward in time fifty years—Turns—using the digital timepiece as your reference.”
“No one goes forward in time, that’s the most dangerous . . .”
“Only if alterations will have taken place,” Aivas replied. “There will be no changes on the bridge of
Yokohama
. That will be your responsibility. Today you will go forward in time, call up the orbit. Print it out. Then, with that hard copy, return here after a safe interval and compare the two graphs. The doors have been locked. No one is likely to come to this bridge at this moment, or until you have returned.”
Every ounce of common sense Jaxom possessed shouted resistance to a timing forward. And yet . . . to have done so would be a feat no one else could possibly manage successfully. For he had Ruth.
“Did you hear what Aivas said, Ruth?”
I did. Given his assurances, and I know that he would not risk you, Jaxom—
“Or you,” Jaxom put in.
I would like to see what Pern looks like in the future. I would like to know that the future is going to be a good one.
And so would I, Jaxom thought.
Then, before he could come up with too many arguments against this rash, foolhardy, reckless endeavor, he signaled for Ruth to float over to him.
“You will, of course,” Aivas said drolly, “be very sure to keep oxygen tanks full on the bridge for fifty Turns to come.”
Jaxom gave a grim smile. “I’m not going to take any chances, Aivas. I’ll just get into my suit.” He was becoming quite adept at inserting himself into the space gear. He mounted Ruth and buckled on the riding straps, just to be very sure, in case they emerged in nothingness. He also knew that Ruth would have no trouble anywhere—or anywhen—finding his way back to Ruatha Hold.
He read the date exposed on the digital and added fifty to the year displayed: 2579. With that legend firmly in his mind, he told Ruth to transfer to that time.
I know when I’m going,
Ruth said cheerfully, and they were abruptly
between
.
Jaxom counted the breaths he was taking and was rather pleased that they were slow and steady. At fifteen, they were back on the bridge—which had not, apparently, altered.
The view hasn’t changed,
Ruth said disconsolately.
“No, it hasn’t,” Jaxom said, surprised to see the diagram still up on the screen. The digital clock, however, definitely registered fifty full Turns past his last view of it. He unhooked his straps and floated down from Ruth’s back to the screen.
“I suppose I could have put this back up in preparation for my coming,” he told himself. “I’ll remember. I hope. Is there air up here, Ruth?”
Yes, but it’s not very fresh.
Jaxom pulled off his gloves and put them down on the console. He didn’t bother to unsuit, since he had no intention of remaining longer than this errand required. He tapped out the appropriate code and saw the cursor outline a second orbit, deviating by several degrees from the earlier one and with the return path intersecting the orbit of the fifth planet and spiraling in! With trembling fingers, he pressed the print command and a sheet obediently emerged—a sheet that felt subtly different from the paper he had become accustomed to. Much whiter, softer! Bendarek had really improved the quality of paper over the intervening Turns. Then he compared its diagram to the one on the screen.
“Shards! Aivas, the path of the Red Star has shifted. Aivas?” An iciness flowed across Jaxom’s midsections. “Aivas?”
How can he hear you fifty Turns into the future, Jaxom?
Ruth said in some amusement.
“Oh, right . . . I suppose. Except he’d know when we were going . . .” Jaxom was still uneasy about Aivas’s silence. “I guess I
have
got so that I rely on him too much. But he was right. So we’re stuck with this new madness of his, aren’t we, Ruth?”
I do not think it is madness to be certain we never have Thread again.
“We’re not out of this Pass yet, even if it
is
possibly the last one we’ll have,” Jaxom said, pushing himself off the deck to grab at Ruth’s neck and swing his leg into the saddle. “The old bridge hasn’t changed . . . and yet, it feels awful still and unused!”
I thought the view would have changed,
Ruth said, clearly disappointed.
Jaxom thought vividly of the digital in his correct present, added thirty seconds to prevent an overlap, and Ruth took them
between
. Exactly fifteen breaths later he was looking straight at the digital advanced the thirty seconds. He did, however, feel very tired, and as he looked at Ruth’s neck, he noticed a definite tinge of gray exhaustion in the usually lustrous hide.
“And?” Aivas queried him.
“I must have put the graph up, because it was there when I arrived.”
“And?”
Jaxom undid his helmet, determined to spin the scene out for all it was worth. “Well, I must have remembered to keep the oxygen tanks topped up, for there was some, even if Ruth said it wasn’t fresh—Shards!” He looked down at his bare hands. “I left my gloves there.”
“
Then
. You will have left your gloves
then
.” Aivas could play the same game.
Jaxom grinned. “I think I’ll just wait and retrieve them . . . later. Here’s what came up in the future. Is the variation sufficient for you, lord and master?” He placed the graph from fifty Turns in the future in front of the sensor so that Aivas could see and compare.
“Yes,” Aivas said, unperturbed, “that will be sufficient. The explosions have accomplished exactly the desired dislocation. Jaxom, your vital signs show a depletion. You must eat carbohydrates.”
“Ruth’s a bit gray, too. He needs to eat more than I do.”
You should have told me we’d be doing this today, Jaxom. We have flown Fall, and I haven’t eaten since those wherries last week.
“As soon as you’re feeling able, dear heart, you shall have as many fat bucks and wherries as you can stuff down your maw.”
Then let us go now. I really feel very hungry.
“Jaxom?” Aivas said as the white rider started peeling off his space suit.
“Yes?”
“Will you comply?”
“With your mad scheme? It appears I must because I have. Haven’t I?”
Ruatha Hold was gay with banners in the bright autumnal air, and folk had been flowing down all the roads to the immense camping grounds near the racing course. One of the first tasks Jaxom had undertaken upon being confirmed as Lord Holder had been to revive Ruatha’s breeding of runners. The animals he had produced since had won significant races from time to time at other Gathers, and he hoped that today, racing on home ground, they would perform even better.
He and Ruth had transferred from the
Yokohama
immediately to an upland meadow where the white dragon had replenished his energies on three bucks and two does. He had then glided home, emitting an occasional satisfied burp so that Jaxom could eat a more substantial meal than the handfuls of berries he had found in the bushes surrounding the field. Jaxom had seen his dragon comfortably curled up on the weyr couch, given orders to the first Steward he saw that he was not to be disturbed even if Thread fell out of phase, and grabbed some bread and cheese from the kitchen, which he consumed on his way to his quarters. There, somewhat sated, he removed his boots and riding belt and crawled under the sleeping furs to sleep.
Sometime during that exhausted rest, Sharra must have joined him, for when he awoke just as the sky was lightening, she was there, nestled against him. What had roused him were unmistakable greetings of Gatherers, arriving after an overnight journey. His nose told him that the spits were already turning over open flames in the roasting pits, and his stomach told him that he needed to fill it. He must have slept an entire day.
“Mmmm, Jax?” Sharra murmured, sleepily reaching for him.
“Yes, love, who else were you expecting?” He leaned over and kissed her. “You let me sleep?”
“Hmmm. Ruth said you were very tired. Meer wouldn’t let anyone in the room but me.”
He angled himself up to a sitting position, scrubbing at his tousled hair, running his tongue around his teeth, and hoping that his breath wasn’t too rank. Meer appeared, Talla right behind him, chirping a gentle inquiry.
“We’re up, we’re up!” Jaxom assured them although Sharra hauled her pillow more firmly under her head, her eyes determinedly shut.
The two fire-lizards disappeared, and very shortly there was a timid scratch at the door of the bedroom.
“Come!” He could smell the aroma of klah as soon as the door opened. A drudge who looked freshly scrubbed and attired entered with a well-stocked tray.
Once he had had some klah and had cajoled Sharra into waking up enough to join him, he revived sufficiently to bathe and dress in new Gather finery.
“Whatever were you doing that exhausted you and Ruth so much?” Sharra asked as she let him fasten her new Gather gown, a splendid affair in the golds and rusts that so suited her.
“Well, there was Fall, and then Ruth and I had to test those new gloves Hamian’s produced and—” He waved his hand airily. “I guess things just mounted up. Did you get enough rest?” he asked solicitously, dropping a kiss on her bare neck before he fastened the topaz necklace which had been his nameday present to her.
“Well . . .” she began in the tone he knew was to make him feel guilty, but then she turned in his arms, her face alight with love and mischief. “I did the honors of the Hold for our guests from Cove Hold, and Lord Groghe and those from Fort Hold and”—she grinned up at him—“
they
said I’d better get an early night and they’d make themselves comfortable. Master Robinton was well on the way through the first wineskin, but he was so pleased that you had some of the ‘sixteen for him.”
A loud halloo from the dawn-lit road brought them to the window, and they saw a huge contingent of riders, bearing Tillek’s banners.