Other titles by Anne McCaffrey
Published by Ballantine Books:
Decision at Doona
Dinosaur Planet
Dinosaur Planet Survivors
Get Off the Unicorn
The Lady
Pegasus in Flight
Restoree
The Ship Who Sang
To Ride Pegasus
Nimisha’s Ship
Pegasus in Space
THE CRYSTAL SINGER BOOKS
Crystal Singer
Killashandra
Crystal Line
THE DRAGONRIDERS OF PERN® BOOKS
Dragonflight
Dragonquest
The White Dragon
Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern
Nerilka’s Story
Dragonsdawn
The Renegades of Pern
All the Weyrs of Pern
The Chronicles of Pern: First Fall
The Dolphins of Pern
Dragonseye
The MasterHarper of Pern
By Anne McCaffrey and Elizabeth Ann Scarborough:
Powers That Be
Power Lines
Power Play
With Jody Lynn Nye:
The Dragonlover’s Guide to Pern
Edited by Anne McCaffrey:
Alchemy and Academe
A Del Rey® Book
Published by The Ballantine Publishing Group
Copyright © 2001 by Anne McCaffrey
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright
Conventions. Published in the United States by The Ballantine Publishing
Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in
Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.
Del Rey is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of
Random House, Inc.
www.randomhouse.com/delrey/
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
McCaffrey, Anne.
The skies of Pern / Anne McCaffrey.—1st ed.
p. cm.
“A Del Rey book”—T.p. verso.
1. Pern (Imaginary place)—Fiction. 2. Life on other planets—Fiction.
3. Space colonies—Fiction. 4. Dragons—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3563.A255 S55 2001
813′.54—dc21 00-051859
Endpaper map drawn by Mapping Specialists Ltd., based on map by
Niels Erickson. Oceanography information by P. Barr Loomis; ocean current
maps by Marilyn Alm.
eISBN: 978-0-345-44713-5
v3.1_r1
This book is respectfully dedicated to
Steven M. Beard, Ph.D.
for putting my world in my hands
Contents
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Prologue
Part 1: Turnover
Part 2: Disaster (Throughout the Same Day)
Part 3: Aftermath
Part 4: New Dimensions
About the Author
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The longer I write in the Pern series the more unusual the circumstances become and the more I need the help of special friends and even more special experts in various fields.
In this book, my cry for astronomical help went out again to Dr. Steven M. Beard and Elizabeth Kerner. Necessity required me to add a Cosmic Impact Consultant in the person of Scott Manley of Armagh Observatory, which I also visited to see telescopes and to learn how to arrange for a cosmic impact on exactly the site required, with digital embellishments and proper readouts. I also had the pleasure of dining at the Armagh home of Dr. Bill and Mrs. Nancy Napier and meeting some of their colleagues for a lovely April evening.
Marilyn and Harry Alm—and the exceptional oceanographical help of P. Burr Loomis—provided me with splendid maps and diagrams so that I would know where I was on Pern.
I owe a particular debt to Georgeanne Kennedy who rallied me to keep to the “real” story line when I had a tendency to go off on tangents because there are so many people on Pern. Thanks also to Lea Day, Elizabeth Kerner and Elizabeth Ann Scarborough who kindly read original draft material and gave me invaluable support. Last but scarcely least is my appreciation for my editors, Shelly Shapiro and Diane Pearson, who helped me refine this latest adventure on Pern. I am deeply grateful for their input.
I would also like to thank http://science.nasa.gov/headlines/y2000 for their excellent updates on what is happening in and about this world.
Music played while writing: Jerry Goldsmith—The Ghost &
the Darkness and other sf
theme music
Percy Grainger—Piano for Four
Hands (2 volumes)
Elgar—Enigma Variations
James Galway—various CDs
Mendelssohn’s Italian
Symphony
Inspector Morse CD
Janis Ian—various CDs
Manuel Barrueco plays Lennon &
McCartney
Tania Opland and Mike
Freeman—Masterharper and
other CDs
INTRODUCTION
Ours not to ponder what were fair in Life,
But, finding what may be,
Make it fair up to our means.
When Mankind first discovered Pern, third planet of the sun Rukbat, in the Sagittarian Sector, they paid little attention to the eccentric orbit of another satellite in the system.
Settling the new planet, adjusting to its differences, the colonists spread out across the southern, most hospitable continent. Then disaster struck in the form of a rain of mycorrhizoid organisms, which voraciously devoured all but stone, metal, and water. The initial losses were staggering. But fortunately for the young colony, “Thread,” as the settlers called the devastating showers, was not entirely invincible: both water and fire would destroy the menace on contact.
Using their old-world ingenuity and genetic engineering, the settlers altered an indigenous life-form that resembled the dragons of legend. Telepathically bonded with a human at birth, these enormous creatures became Pern’s most effective weapon against Thread. Able to chew and digest a phosphine-bearing rock, the dragons could literally breathe fire and sear the airborne Thread before it could reach the ground. Able not only to fly but to teleport as well, the dragons could maneuver quickly to avoid injury during their battles with Thread. And their telepathic communication enabled them to work with their riders and with each other to form extremely efficient fighting units—wings.
Being a dragonrider required special talents and complete dedication. Thus the dragonriders became a separate group, set apart from those who held land against the depredations of Thread, or those whose craft skills produced other necessities of life in their crafthalls.
Over the centuries, the settlers forgot their origins in their struggle to survive against Thread, which fell across the land whenever the Red Star’s eccentric orbit coincided with Pern’s. There were long Intervals, too, when no Thread ravaged the land, when the dragonriders in their Weyrs kept faith with their mighty friends until they would be needed once more to protect the people they were pledged to serve.
After one such long Interval, when Thread renewed its violence, the dragonriders were down to one single Weyr: Benden. Its courageous Weyrwoman, Lessa, rider of the only gold queen, Ramoth, discovering that dragons could move through time as well as space, took a desperate gamble and flew four hundred Turns into the past to bring the other five Weyrs forward in time to renew the defense of Pern.
Circumstanc
es encouraged exploration of the southern continent and there Lord Jaxom, rider of white Ruth; his friend, F’lessan, rider of bronze Golanth; Journeywoman Jancis from the MasterSmithcrafthall; and Piemur, Harper at large, discovered the most important artifact in the settlers’ original Landing: AIVAS—Artificial Intelligence Voice Address System.
With the myriad files of information that the colonists had brought with them, Aivas was able to restore lost pieces of information for all the Crafthalls. He was also able to teach them how to rid their world of the cyclical dangers of the erratic satellite, inaccurately called the Red Star.
F’lar and Lessa, Benden’s courageous and far-seeing Weyrleaders, were the first to encourage Lord Holders and Craftmasters to end the domination of Thread and start a new era on Pern. Almost all Lord Holders and Craftmasters agreed, especially since Aivas could provide them with new methods and technologies for improving health and quality of life.
Those who considered Aivas an “abomination” attempted to stop the splendid project, but were defeated. Instructed and trained by Aivas, the young riders and technicians were able to transport, by means of the dragons, the antimatter engines of the three colony ships—still in orbit above Landing—and place them in a massive fault on the Red Star. The subsequent explosion was visible from much of the planet, and people rejoiced to think they would finally be rid of Thread.
Now, though, Thread continues to fall, because the swarm already brought in by the Red Star has not yet completely passed by Pern. Dragonriders and harpers have explained to those who would listen that this Pass is the last one Pern will have to endure.
They must now start planning for a Threadfree future, making use of the Aivas files, full of helpful but not overly sophisticated technology that will improve life for everyone on Pern. Even the dragonriders, for centuries the defenders of Pern, must fit themselves for new occupations. The questions are: Which technologies can be adopted without disrupting the culture of the planet? And how will the dragonriders integrate themselves and their splendid friends into the new Threadfree society?
PROLOGUE
Crom Mines—5.27.30-Present Pass
Aivas Adjusted Reckoning–2552
The Journeyman on duty in the prisoners’ quarters at Mine 23 in the western foothills was the first one to see the bright, almost bluish streak in the sky. It was coming from a southwesterly direction. It also appeared to be coming straight at him, so he shouted a warning as he scrambled down the steps of the guard tower.
His yells attracted the attention of other miners, just coming up from the shafts, tired and dirty from a long day of digging iron ore. They, too, saw the light—coming straight at the hold. They scattered, yelling, diving for the nearest shelter under ore carts, behind the raw mounds of the day’s tips, the gantry, back into the shaft. There was a rushing noise of thunder rumbling from the sky—and not a cloud in sight. Some insisted that they heard a high-pitched shriek. Everyone agreed on the direction from which the object came: southwest.
Suddenly the high stone wall that surrounded the prison yard was breached, showering pieces of rock that rained down on the other sections of the minehold and causing miners to fall flat, covering their heads against the fragments. A second explosive noise followed the first, punctuated by screams of terror from those in the prison quarters. There was the stink of very hot metal, a familiar enough smell in a place where iron ore was smelted into ingots before being shipped to Smithcrafthalls—only this stink had an unusual acidity that no one could later accurately describe.
In fact, from the moment the journeyman shouted his warning, only one man of the several hundred in the minehold kept his head. Shankolin, imprisoned in the Crom mines for the past thirteen Turns, had waited for just such an opportunity: a chance to escape. He heard the wall shatter, of course, and saw a moment’s reflection of the blue-white light in the small window of the heavy door that was the only entrance to the building. He threw himself to the left, diving under a wooden bunk just as something large, hot, and reeking pierced the wall where his head would have been. It hissed as it plowed down the main aisle and buried itself in the far corner, dropping through the wood planks, smashing a corner pillar, buckling the wall, and causing part of the roof to collapse. Someone was screaming in pain, pleading for help. Everyone else was howling with fear.
Wriggling out from under the bunk, Shankolin took just one look at the opening made by the meteorite—for that was the only thing that could have caused the damage just done—and, realizing that he could see straight across the yard to the shattered wall, he reacted instantly. He dove out of his prison and sprinted to the broken wall. On his way, he made certain that there was no one on the guard walkway or in the end turrets. They must all have abandoned their posts as the meteor streaked toward the minehold.
He heaved himself up and over the broken wall and ran down the hill as fast as he could to the nearest cover of straggly bushes. Crouching behind them, he caught his breath while he listened to the continued sounds of confusion from the minehold. The injured man was still howling: the guards would have to tend to him before they did a head count. They’d probably want to have as close a look at the meteorite as possible. The metal types were valuable. Or so he’d heard, once his deafness had lifted. He didn’t hear everything, but he heard enough. He had never let on that he had recovered from the skull-ripping sound that that abominable Aivas had emitted when Shankolin had led men, picked by his father, Master Norist, to destroy the “abomination” and end its evil influence on the people of Pern.
Having caught his breath, Shankolin rolled down the slight incline until he felt it safe to rise to a crouch and make his way to the sparse forest. He kept turning his head this way and that, listening for any sound of men coming after him. Crouching, he ran as fast as he could down the dangerous inclines. He could hear the pebbles and stones rattling and bouncing ahead of him.
One thought dominated: this time he would make good his escape. This time he had to be free—to halt the progress that the Aivas Abomination was inexorably making, destroying the Pern that had survived so long, as his father had told him in a hushed and fearful voice. Master Norist had been horrified to learn that the Weyrleaders of Pern believed that this disembodied voice could actually instruct them on how to turn the Red Star from its orbit and prevent it from ever swinging close enough to Pern to drop the avaricious and hungry Thread. Thread could eat anything, herdbeasts, humans, vegetation—it could even consume huge trees in the time it took a man to blink. He knew. He’d seen it happen once when he’d been part of the ground crews assembled by the Glasscrafthall. Thread truly was a menace to bodies and growing things, but the Aivas Abomination had been a more insidious menace to the very minds and hearts of men and women, and from its disembodied words a perfidious treachery had been spread. His father had been amazed and disheartened by all the impossible things the Abomination had told the Lord Holders and Craftmasters: of the machines and methods that their ancestors had used; equipment and processes—even ways to improve glass—all of which would make living on Pern much easier.
At that time, when everyone was extolling the miracle of this Aivas thing, his father and a few other men of importance had seen the dangers inherent in many of these smooth and tempting promises. As if a mere voice could alter the way a Star moved. Shankolin was firmly of his father’s mind. Stars did not change their courses. He agreed that the Weyrleaders were fools, inexplicably eager to destroy the very reason why the great dragons were basic to the preservation of the planet! He agreed because he was so close to the end of his journeyman’s time. He was eager to prove himself acceptable to his father, to be the one of his sons to receive the secret skills of coloring glass in the glorious shades that only a Master of the Craft could produce: which sand would make molten glass blue, which powder caused the brilliant deep crimson.
So he had volunteered to be one of those to attack the Aivas Abomination and end its domination over the minds of otherwise intellig
ent men and women.
He was into the stream before he realized it. His right boot hit a slippery stone and he fell, striking his face on another rock. Dazed by the blow, he was slow to push to his hands and knees. The chill of the water on his wrists and legs helped to revive him. Then he saw the drops of blood landing on the stream and floating pinkly away. He explored the cut on his face, wincing as he realized the slash started at his forehead and continued down one side of his nose to a gouge in his cheek—as jagged a cut as the rock that had made it. Blood dripped off his chin. Holding his breath, he buried his face in the cold water. He repeated the process until the cold water had somewhat stemmed the flow of blood. Even so, he had to tear off the tail end of his shirt to tie a rude bandage to stop the blood running from his forehead. Once he cocked his head, listening for any sounds of pursuit. He couldn’t even hear avians or the slithering of snakes. His running might have startled them away. With water still dripping from his soaked clothes, he got to his feet and sniffed at the slight breeze.
During his long Turns of deafness, his other senses had intensified. His sense of smell had once saved his life, even if he had lost the tip of one finger. He’d caught the rank odor of gas being released just before the mine wall had collapsed. Two miners had been buried alive in that fall.
Blood continued to drip from his cheek. He took another patch from his shirttail and held it to the gouge. He looked this way and that, wondering how to proceed.
There were men in the minehold who boasted about their success in tracking escaped prisoners. Bloodstains would make their job easier. He looked anxiously about him, but the stream had swept the blood away. It was fortunate that he’d fallen in the middle of the stream: there’d be no blood to be found.
Perhaps the meteorite had delayed pursuit. There’d been more injured and no prisoner count had been made. Maybe that meteorite was of more importance to the miners. He’d heard that the Smithcrafthall paid well for such pieces falling from the sky. Let them waste time sending a message to the nearest Crafthall. Let them give him enough time to reach the river.
The Skies of Pern Page 1
