“I need a friend now,” Sorka murmured to herself as she wandered through the corridors of the ship. Such freedom was a rare privilege for a girl who had always had to be on guard against strangers. Even home on the farm in Clonmel, she had not been allowed out of sight of an adult, even with old Chip’s protective canine presence. On the Yokohama, not only did she not have to watch out, but the whole ship was open to her, provided she kept out of engineering or bridge territory and didn’t interfere with crew. But at that moment she did not feel like exploring; she wanted comfort. So she headed for her favorite place, the garden.
On her first long excursion, she had discovered the section of the ship where great broad-leafed plants arched over the ceiling, their branches intertwining to make green caves below. She loved the marvelous aroma of moist earth and green things, and felt no inhibition about taking deep lungfuls of air that left a clean, fresh taste at the back of her mouth. Beneath the giant bushes were all sorts, of herbs and smaller plants with tags on them, soon to be transported to the new world. She did not recognize most of the names, but she knew some of the herbs by their common names. Back at home her mother had kept an herb garden. Sorka knew which ones would leave their fragrances on her fingers and she daringly fingered the marjoram, then the tiny thyme leaves. Her eyes drank in the blues and pale yellows and pinks of the flowers that were in bloom, and she gazed curiously at the hundreds of racks of shoots in little tubes of water – nutrient fluids, her dad had told her – sprouted only a few months back, to be ready for planting once they reached Pern.
She had just bent to gently feel the surface of an unfamiliar hairy sort of silver-green leaf – she thought it had a nice smell – when she saw a pair of very blue eyes that no plant had ever sprouted. She swallowed, reminding herself that there were no strangers on the ship; she was safe. The eyes could belong only to another passenger, who, like herself, was investigating the peaceful garden.
“Hello,” she said in a tone between surprise and cordiality.
The blue eyes blinked. “Go ‘way. You don’t belong here,” a young male voice growled at her.
“Why not? This is open to anyone, so long as you don’t damage the plants. And you really shouldn’t be crouched down in there like that.
“Go ‘way.” A grubby hand emphasized the order.
“I don’t have to. Who’re you?”
Her eyes, adjusted to the shadows, clearly read the boy’s resentful expression. She hunkered down, looking in at him. “What’s your name?’’ she asked.
“I doan gotta tell nobody my name.” He spoke with a familiar accent.
“Well, excuse me, I’m sure,” she said in an affected tone. Then she realized that she recognized his accent. “Hey, you’re Irish. Like me.”
“I’m not like you.”
“Well, deny you’re Irish.” When he didn’t – because he couldn’t and they both knew it – she cocked her head at him, smiling agreeably. “I can see why you’d hide in here. It’s quiet and it smells so fresh. Almost like home. I don’t like the ship either; I feel – ” Sorka hugged herself “ – sort of cramped and squashed all the time.” She lengthened the words to make them express her feelings. “I come from Clonmel. Ever been there?”
“Sure.” The boy’s tone was scornful, but he brushed a strand of long orange hair from his eyes and shifted his position so that he could keep his eyes on her.
“I’m Sorka Hanrahan.” She looked inquiringly at him.
“Sean Connell,” he admitted truculently after considerable delay.
“My dad’s a vet. The best in Clonmel.”
Sean’s expression cleared with approval. “He works with horses?”
She nodded. “With any sick animal. Did you have horses?”
“While we was still in Ballinasloe.” His expression clouded with resentful grief “We had good horses,” he added with defensive pride.
“Did you have your own pony?”
The boy’s eyes blinked, and he dropped his head.
“I miss my pony, too,” Sorka said compassionately. “But I’m to get one on Pern, and my dad said that they’d put special ones in the banks for you.” She wasn’t at all sure of that, but it seemed the proper thing to say.
“We’d better. We was promised. We can’t get anywhere ‘thout horses ‘cause this place isn’t to have hovervans er nothing.”
“And no more gardai.” Sorka grinned mischievously at him. She had just figured out that he must be one of the traveling folk. Her father had mentioned that there were some among the colonists. “And no more farmers chasing you out of their fields, and no more move-on-in-twenty-four-hours, or lousy halts, and no roads but the ones you make yourself, and – oh, just lots of things you really want, and none of the bad things.”
“Can’t be all that good,” Sean remarked cynically.
Suddenly the comm unit in the garden erupted into sound. “The boarding call has been issued for the morning drop. Passengers will assemble immediately in the loading bay on Deck Five.”
Like a turtle, Sean drew back into the shadows.
“Hey, does he mean you?” Sorka tried to make out Sean’s face in the darkness. She thought she saw a faint nod. “Boy, are you lucky going so soon. Third day! What’s the matter? Don’t you want to go?” She got down on her hands and knees to peer in at him. Then slowly he drew back. She had seen real fear often enough to recognize it in Sean. “Gee, I’d trade places with you. I can’t wait to get down. I mean, it’s not that long a trip. And it’ll be no different from getting to the Yoko from Earth,” she went on, thinking to reassure him. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” She had been so excited, even knowing that she would be put in deep sleep almost as soon as they got on board, that she had been unaware of anything but the first pressure of take-off.
“We was shipped up asleep.” His words were no more than a terrified mutter.
“Gee, you missed the best part. Of course, half the adults,” she added condescendingly, “were weeping about their last view of old Terra. I pretended that I was Spacer Yvonne Yves, and my brother, Brian, he’s much younger than we are, but he made like he was Spacer Tracey Train.”
“Who’re they?”
“C’mon, Sean. I know you all had vidscreens in your caravans. Didn’t you ever see Space Venturers?”
He was openly scornful. “That’s kid stuff.”
“Well, you’re a Space Venturer right now, and if it’s only kid stuff, there’s nothing to be afraid of, is there?”
‘Who said I was afraid?”
“Well, aren’t you? Hiding away in the garden.”
“I just needed a decent breath of fresh air.” Suddenly he pushed himself out.
“When you’ve a planet full of fresh air below you, only hours way?” Sorka grinned at him. “Just pretend you’re a space hero.”
The comm unit came alive, and she could hear the edge to the embarkation officer’s voice. Desi Arthied had not had to remind another load of passengers to assemble. “The shuttles drop in precisely twenty minutes. Passenger scheduled for this drop who default go to the end of the list.”
“He’s angry,” Sorka told Sean. She gave him a little push towards the door. “You’d better git. Your parents’ll skin you alive if you keep them from making their drop.”
“That’s all you know,” he said savagely. He stomped out of the garden room.
“Scaredy-cat,” she said softly, then sighed exaggeratedly. “Well, he can’t help it.”
Then she turned back to examine the fragrant plant.
By the sixth day all essential personnel were on the surface. Seating was removed from all but one of the shuttles and set about the bonfire square until needed again. Mountains of supplies were dropped, distributed, and stored. Delicate instruments packed in shockproof cocoons followed, along with sperm and the precious fertilized ova from Earth and First – Sallah was certain that Barr did not take a deep breath throughout those drops. Immediately fertilized eggs were implanted in those cows, goats, and sheep that had fully recovered from their deep sleep. Small sturdy types had been brought, not themselves the best genotypes available on Earth but suitable for surrogate dams; the embryos were different again, specially adapted for hardiness and resistance. The resultant progeny would, it was hoped, be able to digest Pern-grown fodder, which would have much more boron in it than the usual Terran produce, and a good variety of native weeds. If there were problems, Kitti Ping and her granddaughter, Wind Blossom, would use the Eridani techniques to alter the next generation appropriately. The plan was for at least some of the animals to be tailored to make the required enzymes in their own glands, instead of using symbiotic bacteria as their ancestors had on earth.