The Chronicles of Pern: First Fall

by Anne McCaffrey

  Nice catch, Carenath told Alaranth.

  Siwith’s whistles of pain were muted as the little fellow valiantly tried to stifle the agony of a wing injury.

  We have him, Alaranth told her rider, who could feel the strain through her queen’s body.

  Siwith, Torene said, relax now while we take you between. We’ve got you safe. Elliath, we go . . . now!

  The transfer to Fort Weyr was accomplished. Sometimes the wounded panicked when they weren’t in control of a movement between, another reason for the second queen ready to grab wing-shoulder joints. But Siwith managed to stay calm, and Alaranth arrived at the Weyr with her casualty still in place. The extra weight had her skimming the surface, though she landed smoothly just where medics waited.

  “Are you okay, P’ter?” Torene shouted over her shoulder. A whiff of scorched leather reached her nose.

  “Yeah. Thanks, ’Rene! Just missed me. Ah, Siwith, you’ll be all right. You’ll be all right!” P’ter’s voice was ragged with concern and shared pain.

  “Hang on while we transfer you.”

  Alaranth tucked her left wing as well as she could under the wounded blue’s limp pinion, Elliath caught Siwith by his uninjured joints, and as Alaranth eased out from under Siwith, the other queen gently eased his body to the ground. Hoses had already sprayed numbweed on the underside of the mangled wing membrane; now the medics could reach the upper surface. The blue’s rider unbuckled his fighting straps and started slathering his dragon’s upper back. Siwith’s whistles of pain were reduced to murmurs of relief.

  “D’you need new tanks, Uloa?” Torene asked.

  “No, I’m fine for another hour.”

  “Me, too.”

  Torene looked skyward, giving Alaranth the signal to be ready. Both queens sprang from the ground at the same instant and, sufficient altitude gained, winked between and back to the Fall.

  The evening meal was served at a late hour. While ground crews said that little had gotten through the wings, there had been sufficient injuries that all the riders knew Sean would have words with the Weyr in general before they were dismissed.

  “He’s sure to claim today’s flying injuries are due to careless riding, bad concentration, and stupidity,” N’klas muttered as he followed Torene into the lower cavern.

  “And he’d be right,” Torene said, grinning back over her shoulder at the morose N’klas. “But clumps are the hardest to fly, and he’s sure to admit that before he starts lambasting us.”

  “Nice catch on Siwith, by the way. P’ter says he’ll be out months growing back wing membrane.”

  “Thought so, from what I could see when we brought him in.”

  “At least he got the best ambulance team.”

  When she and Uloa had returned to the queens’ wing, Faranth and Greteth had been in the process of catching another wing injury.

  Sorka says your timing is excellent. You have command of the wing, Faranth had said directly to Torene. We have him, Greteth. Easy now, Shelmith. We have you. Relax, will you?

  I still fall, Torene heard Shelmith say, frightened.

  Of course you do, but I fall right under you. You are caught. Feel my back under your belly.

  I do! I do!

  “What about Shelmith?” she asked N’klas now. She hadn’t had time to check on the injured yet. The queens’ wing always made contact with ground-crew leaders before returning to the Weyr.

  “He’s only got holes in one wing, but body scores and some bad tracks down the right hindquarter,” N’klas said, wrinkling his nose at the extent of the injuries. “We need rearview mirrors.”

  Torene laughed. “Where on earth would we attach them?”

  “Oh, shoulder, peripheral vision reflex mirror, maybe.”

  Torene stopped at the sight of the crowded dining tables. “Lord, we’ll have to take front seats tonight,” she said, noting the only vacant spots at the tables perpendicular to the slightly raised Weyrleader and Wing-leaders’ table.

  “You did great,” N’klas said. “You’ve got no cause to feel guilty. Too bad you aren’t bigger,” he added with a grin, for he was heavy through the shoulders and chest. “I could hide behind you.”

  “You’ve nothing to worry about. You brought Petrath in with no scores, didn’t you?”

  N’klas paused before he answered, his remorseful expression verging on the comical. “Not exactly. Though,” he hastened to add, “he won’t be out of action more than a week, I’d say.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” She glanced up at him with a rueful smile.

  N’klas shrugged his wide shoulders. “Nothing a bucket of numbweed didn’t soothe. Dragon hide grows back quickly, thanks be!”

  The kitchen crew were quick to serve the riders as soon as they seated themselves. The top table was not occupied as yet: Torene knew that Sean would be having a few words with Wingleaders over poor performance. But Sean knew that clump Falls were always the trickiest, and while a lot of dragons had not finished this Fall due to minor wounds, there had been very few put out of commission by major ones. Every wing had missing members, and some wings were off on R & R, so the Weyr was flying a bit short. Only queens never got official vacation: queens got time off only for clutching. As Alaranth had yet to experience her first mating flight, Torene had been on duty for over two years without a break.

  We fly well as a team. We do excellent rescues, Alaranth said.

  Oh, beloved heart, Torene said, immediately chagrined that she’d been thinking so negatively, we do, we do. But I am tired. Like most of the riders. Everyone needs some time off not just a visit home or to the east coast. Well, she added to herself, maybe Sean would announce that some of those recuperating at Big Island would be reporting back for duty, and that would take the burden off the short-manned wings.

  The meal was good: one of Yashma’s special casseroles, more of the beef, plus legumes and tubers, served with fresh hot bread and slabs of butter. Torene grinned as she slathered her bread with it before passing it on to the impatient rider next to her. Butter in this quantity obviously had come in from Ierne Island. Would they be able to have dairy products when Longwood settled on the east coast? She’d miss them. In the Hold, milk products had been reserved for babies and growing kids. What was being tired to the many advantages of being a rider . . . not the least of which was having Alaranth?

  You like me better than butter?

  Of course I do, but there’s absolutely no doubt that you couldn’t be spread on hot bread!

  Bread is all right. Alaranth was unenthusiastic. From time to time, because Alaranth was curious, Torene had given her queen samples of what she ate.

  But not for a carnivore like you, darling. You aren’t hungry again, are you?

  No, but you were!

  Alaranth also found it hard to understand why her rider had to eat several times a day, when once or twice a week sufficed the much bigger dragon.

  Before the casseroles were passed around the tables for the second time, the Weyrleaders and Wingleaders took their places. Torene thought they all looked relaxed as they conversed pleasantly with each other. That did not jibe with her notions of the Weyr getting a lecture on recklessness and inefficiency.

  A spicy nut-filled bar provided a sweet, and then ale was served, along with refills for anyone wanting just klah.

  “He must really be going to take slices from our hides,” N’klas muttered in her ear.

  “Then why is F’mar grinning from ear to ear?” Torene asked. The young Wingleader was looking excessively smug. Of course, she realized, mentally reviewing the day’s injuries, his wing had come through unscathed, so he could afford to be at his ease. But she wondered why F’mar kept trying to catch her eye.

  Torene listened for Tallith, but the bronze was asleep. Alaranth, did I miss something?

  What?

  I don’t know, and F’mar’s grinning like a fool at me.

  He does that all the time.

  Torene caught an al
most impatient and irritable note to her queen’s remark.

  Don’t you like F’mar? she asked. Or is it Tallith you don’t fancy?

  Torene often asked her queen which bronze she preferred. As she had no particular favorite among the riders, maybe her queen had one among the bronzes. Torene did have to think in terms of her queen’s mating flight, an event that could happen soon now. Sorka had no difficulty in telling her queen riders exactly what to expect—and Torene hoped it would be as thrilling for her as reputed. Sorka never exaggerated.

  Bronze dragons are much the same in a mating flight. But I will be hard to catch!

  Torene burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” N’klas asked her.

  “Alaranth,” Torene said and shrugged, indicating a private joke.

  She nodded at him to pour some ale into her glass after he’d filled his own. She was getting to like the stuff; certainly she preferred it to the jarring taste of quikal. And tonight, she had the feeling that she’d need the loosening beer provided.

  Suddenly noise in the dining area subsided and Torene saw that Sean had risen.

  “Uh-oh,” N’klas said, scrunching himself small beside her.

  “Oh, don’t be an idiot,” she said rather sharply. She was well acquainted with N’klas’s tendency to dramatize.

  This time he was right. Unexpectedly, Sean was holding his glass in one hand.

  “You all know that the wings did not perform very well today, but I take the nature of today’s Fall into consideration. We all know that clumps and tangles are the worst types to combat, and that the very nature of such a Fall can cause injuries to even the most alert rider and clever dragon. I don’t excuse you, and I shall have words with some of you who were caught unawares, and those of you who managed to escape when you bloody well deserved to be scored.” Sean’s expression was harsh as he looked over the crowded tables. “Injuries could have been worse.”

  When he paused again and let his gaze sweep the riders, Torene had the feeling that something momentous was going to happen. She was positive she knew what that had to be and inhaled, sitting straighter. She felt N’klas shift beside her as if he, too, felt impending news.

  “The holders all agree that new Weyrs—” He stopped as dramatically as N’klas might, to let the plurality be absorbed. “—must be formed.”

  He would have gone on, but wild cheering and stamping ensued and made him smile as he held up his arms for silence.

  “Some of you”—and Torene caught him looking at her—“may think that the double-cratered site on the east coast is an ideal site for one. And you’d be right.” More cheering punctuated that statement Torene felt N’klas’s elbow in her ribs, and she saw that F’mar was also watching her, a broad, happy, and very smug grin on his face.

  Well, she thought, he had the makings of a good Weyrleader, and his Wingseconds swore by his competence.

  “We’ll start that one first,” Sean went on, “and there will be two more adapted as soon as possible. I project that we’ll need two more at the rate our queens are laying, so we should prepare now for our needs while holder enthusiasm for our profession continues strong.” He gave a wry smile, which brought a ripple of appreciative laughter. “Big Island is also a firm choice, to give us a warmer climate not only where our injured can convalesce but also where our disabled can still be of assistance. Telgar needs one to protect the miners—” There was a ripple of mild dissent, because Telgar was mountain-cold. “There is a crater in the sandy peninsula to the east and another in the far northwest. But we already have contingents at Big Island and Telgar, so those will be completed first.”

  He waited until the wave of whistles and cheering died and then, with a slight grin on his face, continued. “Ierne Islanders are coming north, and Longwood wants the secondary site on the east coast. They will also help us prepare that Weyr in appreciation of our willingness to protect them.” Sean grinned more broadly now.

  “So that’s how he’s done it,” N’klas said, his eyes shining with respectful awe.

  “Done what?” Torene asked in a low voice.

  “Made them think we’re doing them the favor when it’s the other way round,” N’klas replied. “Oh, he’s clever, is Carenath’s rider.”

  “Lockahatchee and Uppsala fancy Big Island, and they will help us enlarge the existing facility there,” Sean went on. “Telgar’s promised as many miners as he can spare for some of the excavation work on all sites, so I think we will be able to provide protection in four locations even as the Weyrs are being adapted to the needs of our dragons.”

  Four Weyrs, including the one she had yearned for! Torene couldn’t believe it! One would have occasioned great joy. But four Weyrs? Well . . . She did a quick count: Sean could put twenty wings in the air for any given Fall even if all were not accommodated at Fort. Three new Weyrs also meant three new Weyrleaders and Weyrwomen. Who had Sean and Sorka chosen to promote? Probably some of the senior riders, and she couldn’t but be happy for Uloa’s and Arna’s sakes, or David Caterel and Peter Semling. They were logical choices . . . but who else?

  “We have twenty mature queens,” Sean was saying, “and well over a hundred bronzes and ten or twelve browns who would make admirable leaders. This being the case, I feel that we’ll let chance play a part in what is too difficult a choice for us”—he indicated himself and Sorka—“to make. So you’re going to draw which Weyr you’ll go to. We’re splitting up the queen dragons, with the exception of Faranth, who stays here, with me.” Sean scowled fiercely, waiting for the widespread laugh that was expected at the notion of any other dragon but Carenath flying Faranth. When the laughter died down, he went on. “Nora will pass the bag among the gold riders. Tarrie has a bag for Wingleaders, as I think it’s best if the wings go forward as a unit to whichever Weyr the Wingleader draws. Does that seem a fair way to distribute riders?”

  Despite an almost universal surprise, approval followed almost immediately. Looking around at the faces she could see from her position, Torene saw many expectantly hopeful expressions; she put her hands to her ears in an automatic but pointless attempt to shut out the tumultuous responses of dragons to their riders’ anxious reactions. She shook her head and then felt Alaranth’s mind helping her shut off the mental noise. Usually she could filter unwanted messages, but not tonight—not that she could blame either party.

  “Of course, we’ve three clutches of eggs ready for hatching, and we’ll divvy them up as soon’s we know what they are,” Sean added with a grin.

  Torene looked around for Tarrie and Nora and saw them rising from a table on the far end of the cavern. She’d be one of the last to choose, sitting as she was at the front of the room, and the agony of the wait was exquisitely painful. Dare she dream of drawing the east coast Weyr? Or would she stay on here at Fort, since she was the youngest queen rider and had so much to learn? She ought to wish she’d be stationed at Telgar for then she’d be nearer her parents, which they’d appreciate all the more now that her brothers and sisters were away on their apprenticeships. But she had developed a special feeling for the double crater and had so brashly planned how to use its many natural caverns—just as if she had the right to!

  Brown and bronze riders began to shout out their new assignments, leaping from their seats or just waving their arms about in delight. Surprised, Torene heard as much pleasure expressed at being assigned to Telgar as east coast or Big Island. Everything was happening so quickly on the far side that she really didn’t see who had got the east coast assignment. She was surprised when she saw Tarrie go to the head table and pass the bag to the Wingleaders sitting there. Why had F’mar been grinning so much then? She saw him reach his hand in and was so eager to know where he was going that she was startled when she felt someone touch her arm and turned to see Nora standing beside her.

  “You’re the last queen rider present to pick,” Nora said. “Hope it’s the one you want. Then Sorka will draw for the absentees.”

&
nbsp; Holding her breath, Torene dutifully slipped her hand into the bag and felt several slivers. Squeezing her eyes tight, she let her fingers close on one, drawing it out.

  “Do exhale, ’Rene,” Nora said with amusement.

  Torene let out her breath, grinning nervously at the other queen rider before she had the nerve to look at what she held. She read it, then read it again.

  You keep saying ‘east coast,’ Alaranth remarked patiently. Are we to go to the place we want?

  “Yes, oh, yes, yes,” Torene breathed, clutching the all-important, message to her breasts.

  “ ‘Yes, oh, yes, yes,’ where’d you get?” N’klas asked, showing her his slip. He’d pulled “east coast” as well

  She hugged him in a most uncharacteristic gush of joy. He was too surprised to take full advantage of it before she, as abruptly, released him.

  “East coast!” Oh, she was so happy, and she squeezed the message in hands suddenly moist. Radiantly she smiled up the head table and caught Sorka’s smile and Sean’s nod of approval. As her eyes slid away, she saw F’mar’s face: he wasn’t smiling quite so broadly now. She raised her eyebrows queryingly, and he mouthed “Telgar” at her.

  She made a moue of disappointment, but actually she wasn’t disappointed at all.

  Tarrie and Nora had brought the bags up to the main table and Sorka drew for the absent queen riders, Sean for the six absent Wingleaders.

  “So you now all know which Weyr you’ll be stationed at—for now—since we’ll have to make other divisions if we decide to expand to six full Weyrs. All of you Wingleaders are experienced and know as much about managing a fighting Weyr as I do. I’ve seen to that!” He ignored the barrage of whistles and jocular remarks that met his slightly smug smile. “There’s really only one fair way to decide who becomes Weyrleader.” He used another of his pregnant pauses to increase suspense. Torene had never seen her Weyrleader in such teasing good spirits. He was really enjoying stringing all this out.

  “We leave it up to the queens.” He surprised them all by making a gracious bow to Sorka. “And we’ll leave which queen up to chance, as well. Chance plays a greater part in our affairs than you may be aware, but I feel the Weyr has profited by random choice, and we will continue this. Therefore, the first queen in each new Weyr to rise to mate will decide which rider will be Weyrleader!”