“My dad says the charterers will still end up with all the good land,” a young male voice said from the anonymity of the group.
Surveying the children through slightly narrowed eyes, Rudolph Shwartz waited to answer until his audience began to move restlessly.
“The charter permits them first choice, it is true. This is a large planet with millions of acres of arable land. Even charterers have to prove the land they claim. There will be some left for your father and you. Now . . . how many of you already know how to manage the basic sled controls?”
Sorka had been sizing up her fellow students, and reluctantly concluded that there were no girls her age. The clutch of teenaged girls had already formed a group excluding her, and the other girls were all much younger than she was. Resigned, Sorka then looked in vain for Sean Connell. Wasn’t it just like a tinker to skip school as soon as possible?
That initial morning session was concluded with instructions on how to apply to the commissary for their needs, from the carefully rationed candy and treats of Earth, to field boots or fresh clothing. Everyone, their headmaster insisted, had the right to certain luxury items. If an item was available, it would be issued. After a short lecture on moderation, the students were dismissed to enjoy a lunch served from the communal kitchens set up near Bonfire Square and told to report back to the school at 1300 hours for their afternoon duties.
After nearly two weeks of inactivity on the ship, Sorka welcomed the fetch-and-carry tasks. She was almost alone in her preference. The older girls in particular were appalled to be put to rough labor. Farmbred Sorka felt rather superior to those city lilies, and worked so diligently in helping to clear stones from the fields that her agronomist team leader cautioned her to take it easy.
“Not that we don’t appreciate your vigor, Sorka,” the woman said with a wry grin, “but don’t forget you were inactive for fifteen years. Work those muscles in gently.”
“Well, at least I’ve got some,” Sorka replied with a scornful glance at a team of girls who scowled sullenly as they held plastic poles in place for fencing.
“They’ll get used to Pern. They’re here to stay.” The team leader gave a sort of snort. “We all are.”
Sorka sighed with such contentment that the older woman reached out to ruffle her hair. “Ever consider a career as an agronomist?”
“Naw, I’m going to be a vet like my dad,” Sorka replied cheerfully.
The agronomist team leader was the first of many adults who would have liked to have Sorka Hanrahan as an apprentice. She was only a few days on the rock-picking detail before she and five others were sent down to the harbor and the hatchery.
“You’ve proved you can work without supervision, Sorka.” Headmaster Shwartz told her approvingly. “Just the attitude we need to get Pern going.”
After a morning learning to recognize those marine specimens that had already been catalogued, she and the other five youngsters were split into two groups and sent in opposite directions along the immense sweep of the natural harbor to gather any unidentified types of seaweeds and grasses, or anything new that might have been trapped in tidal pools after the previous night’s storm. Delighted, Sorka went off happily with Jacob Chernoff, who, as the oldest, was appointed leader and given a beeper for emergencies.
“This sand ought to be different, not just the same,” the third member of the group complained as they set off.
“Chung, oceans grind stones on Pern the same way they do it on Earth and the result just has to be the same: sand,” Jacob said amiably. “Where were you from?”
“Kansas,” Chung replied. “Betcha don’t know where that is.” His mocking glance fell on Sorka.
“Bounded by the old states of Missouri on the east, Oklahoma on the south, Colorado in the west, and Nebraska on the north,” Sorka replied with studied diffidence. “And you don’t have sand out there. You got dirt!”
Say, you know your geography,” Jacob said to Sorka with a smile of admiration. “Where are you from?”
“Colorado?” Chung demanded sarcastically.
“Ireland.”
“Oh, one of those European islands,” Chung said dismissively.
Sorka pointed to a large purplish branch of weed just ahead of them. “Hey, do they have this one yet?”
“Don’t touch,” Jacob warned as they reached it. With tongs, he lifted the weed for a closer examination. It had thick leaves that branched irregularly from a central stem.
“Looks like it grew from the sea bottom,” Sorka remarked, pointing to a clump of tendrils at the base that looked like roots.
“They didn’t show us anything that big,” Chung said. So they wrapped it in a specimen bag to bring back for study.
That was almost their only find that afternoon, though they sifted through many piles of already identified sea vegetation. Then they rounded an outcropping of the rough gray stone that punctuated the long crescent beach, and came upon a sizable pool in which were trapped a variety of marine life, things that scurried on multiple legs, a couple of purple bladderlike objects that Sorka was certain would be poisonous, and some finger-long transparent creatures that seemed almost like fish.
“How can they be almost fish?” Chung demanded when Sorka voiced her opinion. “They’re in the water, aren’t they? That makes them fish.”
“Not necessarily,” Jacob replied. “And they don’t really look like fish. They look like . . . well, I don’t know what they look like,” he admitted. The life-form seemed to have layers of fins along its side, some of which were in constant motion. “Hairy, they look.”
“All I know is we didn’t see anything like ‘em in the tanks at the hatchery,” Chung said. Taking out a specimen bottle, he lowered himself to the edge of the pool to catch one.
Though Jacob was able to get one of the bladders into a jar, and three samples of the many-legged species almost leaped into captivity the finger fish eluded both boys.
“When Sorka’s suggestions for capture were dismissed, she wandered farther down the beach. Around a second pile of boulders, she found a massive outcropping that resembled a man’s heavy-featured head, complete with brow ridges, nose, lips, and chin, though part of the chin was buried in the sand and lashed by the waves. Delighted and awed, Sorka stood in rapt admiration. It was wonderful, and she had found it. One of the girls in her own Asian Square had fallen down a hole that turned out to be one of the many entrances to a series of caves to the south and west of Landing. They had been logically named the Catherine Caves after their inadvertent discoverer.
Sorka’s Head? She murmured the title under her breath. No, people might think it was her head, and she didn’t look like that at all. As she pondered the question she glanced above the splendidly imposing cliff. It was then that she saw the creature, seemingly suspended in the air. She gasped in wonder, for in that moment the sun caught and dazzled the creature into a golden statue. Abruptly it dove and swooped out of sight, behind the pate of the stone head.
No one had shown her anything that resembled that marvelous creature, and Sorka was filled with excitement. She would have something stupendous to report when she got back to the hatchery. She ran toward the vast head, which was beginning to lose its illusory resemblance. That no longer mattered to Sorka. She had discovered something far more important: a creature of Pern.
She had to scramble up a series of boulders to reach the summit. She paused just before she reached the top and peered over, hoping to catch a closer glimpse of the winged life-form. But she stood up in disappointment. There was nothing visible but naked rock, pitted here and there by faults and holes. She drew back hastily when the surf, beating against the cliff face, became a fountaining plume through one of the holes, showering her with cold sea water.