Klaxons announced the imminent departure, and immediately the main screen turned its eye to the landing site. The watch officers sat alert at their stations. Smaller screens showed the opened shuttle-bay doors from several angles, so that the bridge personnel could watch the shuttles begin to drift from their mother ship, dropping quickly on puffs of their jets before the main engines were ignited. They would spiral down across the planet, entering Pern’s atmosphere on the western edge of the northern continent, and braking as they continued on down and around the globe until they reached their landing site on the eastern end of the southern continent. Exterior cameras picked up the other three shuttles, which took their positions in the flotilla. Gracefully, all six arrowed down and then out of sight over the curve of the planet.
Sallah’s watch ended before the estimated time of arrival on Pern, but she made herself small against the side wall, along with everyone else from her watch, in order to have the best view possible. She knew that every screen on the ship was broadcasting the same information, and that the visual of the actual landing would flash simultaneously on all three colony vessels—but somehow it seemed more official to see it all from the bridge. So she stayed, reminding herself to breathe from time to time and shifting from one tired swollen leg to another. She would be relieved when the spin went down in order to facilitate the moving of cargo—but soon she would be planetside, with no convenient spin to turn off to reduce the effects of gravity.
“Got rid of your mates?” Stev Kimmer asked, stepping quickly into Avril’s room after a quick glance over his shoulder. He closed the door behind him.
Avril turned to face him, arms extended; she flicked her fingers to indicate unoccupied space, and smiled in smug satisfaction. “Rank has privileges. I used mine. Lock it. Occasionally that oaf Lensdale tries to foist someone off on me, but I added three names below mine, and he may have given up.”
Kimmer, due shortly at the loading bay to take his place in one of the Yoko’s shuttles, got straight to the point. “So where is this incontrovertible proof of yours?”
Still smiling, Avril opened a drawer and took out a dark wood box with no apparent seam. She handed it to him; and he shook his head.
“I told you I’ve no time for puzzles. If this is a ploy to get a man into your bed, Avril, your timing’s way off.”
She grimaced, annoyed by his phrasing as well as the fact that changed circumstances forced her to seek assistance from others. But her first plan had run aground on the reef of Paul Benden’s sudden and totally unexpected indifference to her. Smiling away her distaste, she repositioned the box on her left palm, made a pass at the side facing her, then effortlessly lifted the top. As she had predicted, Stev Kimmer inhaled in surprise, the sparkle in his eyes fleetingly reflecting the rich glow of the ruby that sat nestled in the box. His hands made a movement toward it, and she tilted the box ever so slightly, causing the gem to twinkle wickedly in the light.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Avril’s voice was soft with affectionate possession as she turned her hand, letting him see the brilliance in the heart of the rose-cut gem. Abruptly, she took the jewel from its bed and handed it to him. “Feel it. Look at it through the light. Flawless.”
“How did you get it?” He shot her an accusing glance, his features set with a combination of envy, greed, and admiration. The latter was all for the magnificent jewel as he held it up to the lighting strip and examined its perfection.
“Believe it or not, I inherited it.” At his suspicious expression, she leaned gracefully against the small table, arms folded across her well-formed breasts, and grinned. “My grandmother at seven removes was a member of the EEC team that explored this mudball. Shavva bint Faroud, to give her her maiden name.”
“Fardles!” Stev Kimmer was genuinely astounded.
“Furthermore,” Avril went on, enjoying his reaction, “I have her original notes.”
“How did your family manage to keep this all those years? Why, it’s priceless.”
Avril raised her lovely arched eyebrows. “Great-grandmother was no fool. That bauble was not the only thing she brought back from here, or the other planets she explored.”
“But to bring this with you?” It was all Kimmer could do not to clench his fingers around the beautiful gem.
“I’m the last of my line.”
“You mean, you can claim part of this planet as a direct descendant of the EEC team?” Stev was beginning to warm to such possibilities.
She shook her head angrily at his misconstruction. “The EEC takes bloody good care that doesn’t happen. Shavva knew that. She also knew that sooner or later the planet would be opened for colonization. The ruby and her notes—” Avril paused dramatically. “—were handed down to me. And I—and her notes—are now in orbit around Pern.”
Stev Kimmer regarded her for a long moment. Then she reached over and took the ruby from him, negligently tossing it in one hand while Kimmer nervously watched.
“Now, do you want in on my scheme?” she asked. “Like my beloved and far-seeing predecessor, I have no wish to remain at the end of the galaxy on a seventh-rate world.”
Stev Kimmer narrowed his eyes and shrugged. “Have the others seen the ruby?”
“Not yet.” She smiled slowly with sly malice. “If you’ll help me, they may never need to.”
By the time Stev Kimmer made a hurried departure to the loading dock, Avril was sure of his participation. Now all she needed was a chance to talk to Nabhi Nabol.
Kenjo Fusaiyuko tensed at the first shudder as the shuttle hit atmosphere. The admiral, seated between Kenjo and Jiro Akamoto, the copilot, leaned forward eagerly, straining at his safety harness and smiling in anticipation. Kenjo permitted himself to smile, too. Then he carefully blanked his expression. Things were going far too well. There had been no problems with the countdown checklist. For all its fifteen years of inactivity, the shuttle Eujisan handled perfectly. They had achieved an excellent angle of entry and should make a perfect landing on a site that, according to probe report, was as level as a natural area could be.
Kenjo had always worried about possible contingencies, a habit that had made him one of the best transport pilots in Cygnus Sector Fleet in spite of the fact that the few emergencies he had faced had never been ones that he could have foreseen. He had survived because, in planning for foul-ups, he had been ready for anything.
But the Pern landing was different. No one, apart from the long-dead Exploration and Evaluation team, had set foot on Pern. And, in Kenjo’s estimation, the EEC team had not spent enough time on the planet to have made a proper assessment.
Beside him, Jiro murmured reassuring readings from his instrumentation, and then both pilots felt the resistance as the shuttle dug deeper into the atmospheric layer. Kenjo tightened his fingers around the control yoke, setting his feet and his seat deep for steadiness. He wished the admiral would lean back—it was unnerving to have someone breathing down his neck at a time like this. How had the man managed to find so much slack in his safety harness?
The exterior of the shuttle was heating up, but the internal temperature remained steady. Kenjo shot a glance at the small screen. The passengers were riding well, too, and none of the cargo had shifted under its straps. His eyes flicked from one dial to the next, noting the performance and health of his vehicle. The vibration grew more violent, but that was to be expected. Had he not pierced the protective gases of a hundred worlds in just the same way, slipping like a penknife under the flap of an envelope, like a man into the body of his beloved?
They were on the nightside now, one moon casting a brilliant full light on the dark landmass. They were racing toward day over the immense sea of Pern. He checked the shuttle’s altitude. They were right on target. The first landing on Pern simply could not be perfect. Something would have to go amiss, or his faith in probability would be shattered. Kenjo searched his control panel for any telltale red, or any blinking yellow malfunction light. Yet the shuttle continued its slanting plunge as the sweat of apprehension ran down Kenjo’s spine, and moisture beaded his brow under his helmet.