“You are supposing that detailed knowledge of genetics, particularly Pernese genetics, and the tools to manipulate Pernese genetic code would be available four centuries from now,” Emorra said. She turned to him. “Tell me, Lord Mendin, how many base-pairs are there in the Pernese genetic code?”
“Why would I need to know that?” Mendin spluttered indignantly.
“Precisely,” Emorra replied. “Why would anyone need to know that four hundred years in the future?”
Mendin waved a hand to the Weyrleaders. “Perhaps they would know it.”
“I don’t know it now,” M’hall confessed. He glanced at the other Weyrleaders, who also professed ignorance. “I am more concerned with fighting Thread and maintaining a Weyr than the genetic code of the dragons.” He glanced at Emorra. “It would seem that the College would retain this knowledge.”
Emorra shook her head. “I doubt it, Weyrleader,” she said. “Even now there are only three people in this room who can answer my question: myself, my mother, and Tieran.”
“What about Janir, surely he knows this!” Mendin objected.
Janir shook his head. “I know a little about terrestrial genetics, but I specialize in human medicine.”
“Statistically, if only three people know something now,” Emorra said, “then there is a very high likelihood that that knowledge will not survive into the next generation, let alone four centuries from now.”
“So the dragon from the future can’t be genetically modified,” Mendin declared. He sat back in his chair and looked around at the other Lord Holders triumphantly.
“That is not necessarily so,” Emorra replied.
“How so?” Mendin demanded, sitting upright once more.
“It is possible,” Wind Blossom began, then paused, looking at Emorra for her consent. “It is possible that the genetic modifications were provided by one of us and not used until this future time.”
M’hall made a thoughtful face. “Are you suggesting that we dragonriders bring one of you forward in time four centuries?”
“Is that even possible?” Mendin murmured.
“It is possible,” Wind Blossom conceded with a nod. Then she turned her gaze to M’hall and the Weyrleaders. “I don’t think it is advisable.”
M’hall gestured for her to enlighten them.
“You have observed that there is a great deal of physical stress associated with traveling between, particularly between times. I do not think that I could handle such a prolonged strain,” Wind Blossom said. She glanced apologetically at Emorra and Tieran before adding, “And while I don’t doubt their efforts, I believe that neither Tieran nor Emorra would be up to the scientific challenge.”
She paused to give Tieran and Emorra a chance to demur. When they remained silent, she went on. “Also, there is the fact that the equipment and knowledge base we need are here, now, at the College and may not be available four centuries in the future.”
M’hall stroked his chin, nodding. “Even with what the dragons could carry, I imagine there could always be one important thing that would be left behind.”
“And it would be a one-way trip,” Tieran pointed out. The others looked at him. “We couldn’t risk accidentally bringing the illness back in time with us.”
Mendin threw up his hands, leaning forward again in his chair. “So it’s impossible, then.” Tieran turned to Mendin and the other Holders. “I think we should move on to the next agenda item-the disposition of the remaining stonecutters.”
“I believe that I have the agenda,” Emorra said blandly. Mendin flushed and then gestured angrily at her to proceed.
“The fact remains that there are signs of genetic manipulation,” Wind Blossom spoke out. “If we believe that our descendants could not have done this unaided, and we agree that we cannot journey forward in time to aid them, then it is clear that we must choose-must, indeed, have already chosen-a third course.”
Mendin glared at the old geneticist and only brought his emotions under control by firm exertion of will. “With all due respect,” he said, though none could be heard in his tone, “did you not say that your results were preliminary?”
Wind Blossom nodded.
“And you conducted these tests yourself?”
Again, Wind Blossom nodded.
“It is a fact that you are the oldest person now living on Pern,” Mendin noted. “Could it be possible that you were mistaken?”
Roland, Southern Boll’s Lord Holder, who had been puzzling something silently, suddenly piped up, “How did you figure this out? I thought we’d lost all our technology!”
“We did,” Wind Blossom agreed. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as though recollection pained her. “Many of our finest instruments were lost in a storm when we crossed from Landing.” She looked directly at Mendin. “Including most of the equipment specifically tuned to manipulate Pernese genetic code.” She glanced over at Malon and M’hall. “It was only after the quarantine of the fire-lizards that a chance comment by M’hall caused me to wonder if some of the equipment might have survived.”
The other Lord Holders exchanged surprised looks.
“I was lucky enough to retrieve some useful equipment off the shores of Tillek Hold,” Wind Blossom continued.
“And power packs, too?” Mendin asked, mentally upping the amount of stonecutting he could do.
Wind Blossom shook her head. “These units all have their own internal, nonremovable power supplies. They are all highly-specialized equipment of Eridani origin.”
Janir cleared his throat and asked in a small voice, “Could this equipment have helped us in the Fever Year?”
Wind Blossom pursed her lips and shook her head sadly. “It was only tuned to the Pernese genetic code,” she told him. “We used it to help us design the dragons.”
“But that leaves us no nearer to solving your conundrum,” Mendin said.
“I do not agree,” Wind Blossom said. “I believe that we have evidence not only that we will do something but exactly what we will do.”
“And that would be?” Roland asked.
“It is clear to me that we must come up with a way to preserve our equipment and knowledge in such a way as to help our descendants,” she replied.
“You would have to not only provide them with the equipment but teach them how to use it,” Mendin declared angrily.
“That is what we at the College are supposed to do,” Emorra replied evenly.
TWENTY
It was still dark outside, but Benden Weyr’s Bowl was filled with the activity of dragons and riders preparing for Fall. The air in the Bowl was filled with predawn fog, wisping up in swaths through the dark.
Lorana was both surprised and pleased at the reception she received from rider and dragon. Beside her, she could feel Ketan’s renewed mourning as he experienced the Weyr preparing for the first Fall he wouldn’t be flying.
“Healer,” B’nik called softly out of the darkness. He stepped closer, emerging from the foggy dark.
“Weyrleader,” Ketan replied politely.
B’nik, discarding any thought of commiseration, stepped close to clasp the healer on the shoulder. “I hope you won’t have much work when we get back.”
Ketan smiled. “So do I,” he said. “Fly safe.”
In the darkness a dragon coughed. Lorana lurched against Ketan and straightened, mumbling an apology.