Jaxom was distressed to see the change in the Masterharper, a subtle one, but he could tell that Lytol and D'ram were also aware of it. Robinton had recovered from the physical shock but not from the mental one. He seemed himself when in company, but too often Jaxom would catch him deep in thoughts-disturbing and unhappy ones, to judge by the sadness in the Harper's eyes. Also, he seemed to drink less, and with less relish. He was a man going through the motions of living.
Zair is worried, Ruth told Jaxom when he caught his rider worrying about the Harper.
"It may just take a little more time for Master Robinton to recuperate," Jaxom said, trying to reassure himself. "He's not as young as he was, less resilient. And it was a ghastly experience. When this is over, we'll think of something to rouse him from his apathy. Sharra's noticed it, too. She'll talk it over with Oldive. You know how testy he gets when he thinks you're fussing over him. We'll do something. Tell Zair. Now, just once more, let's go through the star pattern for our first timing."
We both know those stars better than the ones above us now, Ruth said, but he dutifully did as Jaxom asked.
The call to assemble came in late afternoon. Fosdak, the slimmest of the smith journeymen, had squeezed his suited self into the interstices and pumped the penetrating liquid and oil into the fine crack of each of the huge clamps that held the engine shaft onto the main ship segment. By the time he had done the Buenos Aires and returned to the Yokohama to see if the application had dispersed, he was reasonably confident of success.
Once again Fandarel used code-word and key sequence, punched ENTER, and waited. This time the computer acknowledged the commands and responded with READY TO EXECUTE.
"I am ready to execute the order," Fandarel said.
"Go, man, go!" F'lar cried.
Fandarel activated the program. He didn't know if anyone else heard the metallic squealings and clangings, or the final clunk as the clamps let go, the noise was loud enough in the engineering section.
"We have separation," he said, and then remembered to activate the exterior optics to view the effect.
"Weyr, alert!" F'lar called, and Fandarel had a fine view of the sudden appearance of the massed dragons, each dropping to prearranged positions along the upper spars. "Magnificent!"
"The Bahrain has separation!" Bendarek cried.
Fandarel could not see the Bahrain.
Jaxom could, for this was his responsibility. When F'lar had alerted the wings under his command-from Benden, Igen, and Telgar Weyrs-Jaxom had called up his from Eastern, Southern, and Ista. The assembly that answered him was the most impressive he had ever seen in all his Turns. Each arrived in place at the same moment, just as they had drilled. Dragon claws gripped the long spars, and every faceplate was turned toward the spot on the tail section where he and Ruth were perched.
Ruth, give the dragons their direction to the Red Star in star-pattern. Remember, there will be no crater at that end of the Rift.
I do, because we will put it there! Ruth sounded elated.
There would be no confusion over that formality: the dragons expected to receive their destination from Ruth. None of them had been to the Red Star. All the riders had been told that it would appear to be a longer jump than they were accustomed to making, and that they should remember to breathe regularly in the interval.
They understand and are ready, Ruth reported a moment later. '
Jaxom took in a deep breath, resting one gloved hand on Ruth's shoulder before he raised it high. Then we must go, he said, before I lose my nerve. And he dropped his arm.
It was a long jump, even if it was expected. Jaxom counted thirty carefully inhaled and exhaled breaths. Too bad Lessa hadn't remembered how long it had taken her to go back four hundred Turns-that knowledge would have been reassuring. On thirty-two breaths, Jaxom's anxiety began to ooze out of his control.
Here! Ruth announced in a great echoing shout in Jaxom's mind.
And they were hovering inches above one end of the Great Rift. The stars were in the correct pattern in the sky. The desolate landscape at that edge of the Rift was just as bleak at this time of its life as it was in Jaxom's Turn.
Jaxom hauled his mind back to the business at hand. They had ten minutes to let the massive engine down into the Rift.
Those who sow the ovoids are proceeding, Ruth told him.
Jaxom relayed the order for the dragons to lower their burden-and then he grinned broadly. The dragons had accomplished this incredible journey! The weight of the engine had been as nothing-because they had not thought of it as anything out of the ordinary. A surge of elation buoyed his spirits immeasurably.
We did it, Ruth! We did it!
Of course we did it. Easy now, keep that thing level, Ruth added, and Jaxom gestured to the rear dragons who were dropping faster than the forward ones. T'gellan asks how far down are we to go with this?
Tell him, as far down as we can lower without the dragons scraping their wings. There should be some rocky protrusions that'll hold it in place long enough. Steady now, keep a regular rate of descent.
They were well below the rim of the Rift when Jaxom felt the whole structure jar.
Can we drop down, Ruth, and see if this will do?
Ruth's eyes gleamed off the strata of rock, feldspar, granite, and darker stone mixtures. Then he was below the bulk of the engine.
It will slant a bit if they release it, Ruth said, his sight more acute in the shadows than Jaxom's.
Who's on the bow end? Jaxom asked.
Heth, Clarinath, Silvrath, Jarlath.
Please ask them to lower as far as they can.
They have.
Ask them to release their grip but be ready to grab again. We can't have the thing slipping down into the abyss.
Heth says if the stern will move forward half a length, there is a good shelf of rock for the bow end.
Give Monarth that message.
I have.
Jaxom could see the slight movement as the engine mass settled.
All right. Jaxom gestured to the riders facing him to release their end carefully.
That accomplished, with tension obvious as talons hovered inches above the spars, the massive engine seemed secure. Jaxom glanced at the timepiece strapped to his wrist. Eight minutes had elapsed. They were done.
As he signaled for the wings to rise out of the Rift, he asked Ruth to tell the dragons to land on the rim.
Are the sowers all right, Ruth?
They are, the white dragon said equably. Mirrim landed Path once to look at the ovoids in the dust. There are many many more than she thought there would be.
Tell Path that Mirrim is not to bring a sample back. We have enough of them, Jaxom said firmly. The last thing they needed was an artifact from eighteen hundred Turns before.
Path says a lot of them are rotten.
All the more reason to leave them where they are!
Path will not bring one.
Jaxom glanced at his watch. Another minute had ticked by. The dragons and riders were glancing curiously about them.
Monarth says T'gellan says Threads are welcome to this planet, Ruth remarked. The engine will not explode yet, will it?
No, not according to the way Bendarek read the gauge when he checked this one over. I wonder how F'lar's doing.
The small hand had circled once again.
Call the others in, Ruth. We d better get back.
In eight seconds the green, blue, and brown riders rejoined the others.
Now came the dangerous part, the one Jaxom had fretted over since Aivas had informed him of this maneuver: getting all the dragons and riders safely back to their own time.
Impress on every dragon, Ruth, that he is to return to his own weyr. We will have been gone fourteen minutes, so there is really no chance that they will collide with themselves on the way back-is there?