“I can appreciate their goals, but I don’t like their methods,” M’hall replied.
Wind Blossom nodded. “Neither do I,” she agreed. “And I have better reason than most to appreciate their goals and question their methods. In fact, if we were in contact with the EEC, I’d have some comments to make to the Eridani Council itself.”
M’hall’s eyebrows rose as he considered the image of this tiny old lady berating the prestigious Eridani Council. He imagined the Eridani Council would soon see the error of its ways.
“What would your comments be?” he asked, his eyes dancing humorously.
“I would say that I consider it a mistake to engage an aristocracy in maintaining ecologies-that it should be something that is the inheritance of every sentient being living in the ecosystem,” Wind Blossom told him.
“I see,” M’hall said. “And how would you implement that here, on Pern?”
Wind Blossom shook her head. “I don’t know,” she replied. “With an adequate technology base and a larger population, there would be time to teach everyone. But this is a world built on agriculture-we don’t have the tools required to do delicate genetic testing. There are not enough people and not enough food for our expanding population.”
“It would seem that here,” M’hall said, waving his hand around to indicate the College, “would be the place to retain that knowledge.”
“We’re already losing that knowledge,” Wind Blossom said. “Shortly we’ll be unable to perform any invasive surgery. We haven’t got the equipment to monitor the effect of an anesthetic on a person, let alone the people trained to administer it.”
“What about genetics?”
“Genetics is even worse,” Wind Blossom said. “Fortunately the base population is pretty healthy, but there will be mutations-there are about six to seven hundred mutations in every newborn-and some of those will be malevolent.
“We could teach something about basic genetics, plant breeding and so on, but nothing about genome manipulation-how to detect and repair defective genes.”
M’hall grimaced. “So do you see no hope?”
“I didn’t say that. There’s a chance that at some future date-perhaps a thousand years or more-our society will advance to the point where it will be possible to recover what was lost at Landing and re-establish contact with the Yokohama or the other ships in orbit. When that happens, all the knowledge we had will be made available to our descendants,” she said. “What they do with it will be up to them, of course.”
“So you’re worried about the short-term only?”
Wind Blossom shook her head. “My training leaves me worried about our world.”
M’hall nodded sympathetically. “I share your worries, you know,” he told her. He rose and stretched. “I must get back to my Weyr.”
Wind Blossom nodded understandingly.
“There is less to do now, but more than I’d realized,” he added with a rueful grin. “Still, if anything else happens to fall out of the sky-let me know. And if you come up with any ideas on how to solve these problems you worry about, let me know and I’ll do all I can to help.”
“Thank you, M’hall, that’s all I could hope for,” Wind Blossom answered.
As they walked back out through the courtyard to where Brianth was waiting, M’hall looked down at the dimunitive old-timer and said conversationally, “You know, Wind Blossom, you need a break from all this.”
He wagged a finger in response to her shocked expression. “Some time off will do you a world of good. If you want to go someplace, like a warm seaside cottage, you send word and I’ll get you there.”
Wind Blossom opened her mouth to protest, but her expression changed before she could utter a response. A thoughtful gleam entered her eyes.
“Why thank you, M’hall. I think I will.”
THIRTEEN
Today we’ll drill with mixed wings,” M’tal announced the next morning. It had been a long, hard night for the entire Weyr. The evening and early hours of the morning had been punctuated with the sorrowful cries of injured riders and dragons. Two more dragons had gone between before dawn.
M’tal had called the Wingleaders together at first light.
“Not only do we need the training,” M’tal told the group, “but it will keep us focused on our duties.”
“What about the sick dragons, M’tal?” someone called from the back.
“They won’t fly, J’ken,” M’tal said, recognizing the speaker’s voice. “I learned my lesson yesterday. We’ll let them rest.”
There was a murmur of agreement and some muttering about being a day late.
M’tal raised a hand for silence. “Yesterday none of us had fought Thread before,” he said. “Today we know better. In two days, we’ll be able to handle any losses in our flights. It’s vital that we practice today and tomorrow as hard as we can to handle losses during Threadfall.
“I’ve asked Lorana and Kindan to call out dragons as ‘casualties’ from time to time, so that we can really learn how to cope,” he told them. He saw the other riders looking at each other, nodding as they digested the idea and found they liked it.
“But what about the sickness, M’tal?” J’ken called from the back of the group. “I lost two good riders yesterday because they were too sick to fly. What if more get sick?”
“Lorana and Kindan will also be in the Records Room searching for any hints they can find,” M’tal assured them. “I’ve sent word to Masterharper Zist to search the Records at the Harper Hall, too.”
“Do they keep dragon Records at the Harper Hall?” J’tol, B’nik’s wingsecond asked, frowning.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” M’tal said.
“Sounds like Kindan and Lorana are working too hard,” L’tor muttered. He looked up at M’tal. “Let’s hope they aren’t so tired that they miss something vital.”
“Could we get someone else to help?” J’tol wondered.
“Traditionally, it’s been the duty of the Weyrwoman to examine the Records,” J’ken noted.
M’tal raised a hand placatingly. “I’m afraid that Salina is still recovering from her loss,” he told the group regretfully. “I’m sure-”
“I wasn’t talking about her, M’tal,” J’ken interjected. “I was talking about Tullea.”
He shot a glance at B’nik’s wingsecond. “What about it, J’tol? Where’s Tullea? And where’s B’nik for that matter? Late again?”
“B’nik is setting up a surprise for us,” M’tal assured the others. “I asked him to.”
“What about Tullea?” J’ken persisted. From the grumbling of the group, it was obvious that he was not the only rider who was displeased by their new Weyrwoman’s behavior.
“What matters now, dragonriders,” M’tal called in a voice pitched to carry over the grumbling, “is that Thread falls in two more days’ time and we need practice. To your dragons!”
The first two hours of practice were dismal. B’nik’s surprise was that half his wing was aloft with the ropes used for practice in the Games. They popped in and out of between well above the riders, and threw down handfuls of the ropes, to simulate clumps of Thread.
After two hours, J’tol took the other half of B’nik’s wing high aloft to throw ropes, while B’nik and the others practiced flaming it along with the rest of the Weyr.