“Tomorrow we’ll clean the gear,” Kalvi announced while klah was being served, “and you’ll strip down and reassemble the units so I’m sure you know what you’re doing. The man who does it fastest and best will get Lord Paulin’s reward.” A loud cheer resounded through the Hall.
“Morale’s good,” Paulin said to Kalvi who nodded, well satisfied with the way this first instruction session had gone.
If all of those meetings planned for the Head Engineer at the other major holds went as smoothly, Kalvi thought he might even get a chance for a few days off to fish in Istan waters. In the frantic search during the run-up to the Second Pass for materials long left in storage, some reels of stout nylon fishing line had been found. The bar-coding on the carton had been damaged so there was no way of knowing how long ago the line had been manufactured, but Kalvi was eager to put it to the test with some of the big ones that swam in the tropical waters. This sort of synthetic material was extremely durable and would certainly take the weight of pack fish which could sometimes be quite substantial.
A third group made up of teachers - novices and experienced were gathered in the College’s spacious refectory.
Today this convocation had the happier task, learning and rehearsing the new Ballads which were to be used in teaching the young.
On the second day the Fort Weyrleader would instruct the peripatetic teachers on how best to shelter themselves if they should be caught out during Threadfall.
Clisser had been inundated with complaints that the Weyrs were restricting rides which had been the accustomed mode of transport. Not all the teachers were familiar with, nor competent to ride, the sturdy horses that had been bred for long-distance and mountain travel. He was going to have to reassign a lot of his older teachers, yet another headache.
But for this three-day period at least, the emphasis would be on the music and the new curriculum. Not that he hadn’t had contentious reactions to that. He was beginning to think that Bethany had had the right of it when she suggested that they, like the first Settlers, had relied too heavily on easy access to information. Oddly enough, some of the older teachers loudly approved the new curriculum.
“High time we brought things up to date, with relevance to the life we’re leading here, not what folks had there,” Layrence of Tillek said, “stuff we’ll never have, so what’s the point of quizzing them on it?”
“But we have traditions we must uphold,” Sallisha said, her brow creased in a frown. Which made Clisser realize once again that her reputation for being a ‘right wagon’ was not without merit. Traditions which they must understand to appreciate what we have.”
“Oh, Sallisha,” and Bethany smiled in her soothing way, “we’re incorporating all those traditions in the Ballads but stressing what they need to understand of the life they have here.”
“But our glorious past…” Sallisha began.
“Is past,” Sheledon said forcefully, scowling right back at her.
“All past, all gone, and why dwell on contacts our ancestors severed for their own good reasons?”
“But - - but - - - they should know - - -“ Sallisha began again.
“If they wish to know more, they can read it” Sheledon said, “for advanced study. Right now, they have to cope with the problem of Threadfall.”
“And that’s far more important than which planets outlasted the Nathi bombardments and who was World Leader in 2089,” said Shulse. “Or how to plot a parabolic course around a primary.”
Sallisha glared implacably at the maths teacher.
“Of course,” Shulse went on, “I do approve of mentioning such history where it pertains to Emily Boll as Governor, or Paul Benden as Admiral of the Fleet, because they are part and parcel of Pernese history.”
“But you have to show students the overall picture - - -.” Sallisha was persistence itself.
“And some students will be vitally interested, I’m sure,” Shulse said, “but I agree with Clisser that we have to streamline the material to be studied to the point where it has relevance to this world and our civilization.”
“Civilization?” Sallisha said at her most scornful.
“What? You don’t call what we’ve made here ‘civilized’?” Sheledon loved to tease the literal-minded Sallisha.
“Not in terms of what our ancestors had.”
“And all that went with a high-tech society - like prepubescent addicts, city gangs, wild plagues, so much tech fraud that people were stuffing credits in their mattresses to protect their income, the…”
“Spare me,” Sallisha said contemptuously, “and concentrate on the good that was done.”
Sheledon gave a chuckle. “D’you know how dangerous it was to be a teacher on old Earth?”
“Nonsense, our civilization,” and she emphasized the word, “revered professors and instructors on every level.”
“Only after they were allowed class-room discipline.” Sheledon began.
“And the use of stunners,” added Shulse.
“That is not a problem on Pern,” Sallisha said loftily.
“And we’ll keep it that way,” said Clisser firmly, “ by adjusting what interests our classes and dispensing with irrelevancies.”
Sallisha whirled on Clisser. “What you decide is relevant?”
Clisser pointed to the files along one wall of the library in which they were talking. “I sent out questionnaires to every teacher on the rolls, and to holders, major and minor, asking for input. I got it, and this curriculum,” he lifted the thick volume, “is the result. You’ve all received copies.
“And the Teaching Ballads will be part of the package you receive during the conference.”
Sallisha retired with poor grace, sulking as obviously as any intractable student would. He wondered if she saw the resemblance in attitude. However, Sallisha was a very good teacher, able to impart knowledge at the level needed, and was therefore supervisor of Southeastern Pern. But she had her little quirks - like everyone else in the world.
Making the children memorize the Teaching Ballads would improve their retention of words: a skill that Clisser realized he had lost with his dependence on technology. But then, one of the reasons the Colonists had come to Pern with its limited resources was to revert to a society that was not so dependent on technology. He read accounts of persons who never left their home place, contacting others only by electronics, living as teremites. Not so much out of fear of the outside world as indolence.
No-one could be indolent on Pern, Clisser told himself, and smiled. What a wasted life to remain in one place all one’s days! Well, perhaps here on Pern, events - like Threadfall had forced them a little lower on the technological scale than the Settlers had anticipated, but they had adapted to Pern and were adapting it to their own use. And would meet the menace with a fully developed, renewable air defense force, He hoped.
Clisser sucked in his breath in a sort of reverse whistle. Everyone on the planet - with one notable exception - was girding their loins and securing their premises against that attack.
Preparing was one thing, but enduring fifty years of an aerial attack was another. Briefly he reviewed the accounts published by the besieged colonists on Sirius III and Vega IV when the Nathi started bombarding the planets. Day after day, according to the history tapes, the worlds had been shelled with dirty missiles, rendering the surface uninhabitable. Whole generations had grown up on colonial planets, living in deep shelters.
Clisser smiled to himself - not much different from the cave holds in which the Pernese now lived. And indeed those accommodations had benefited by the Sirian and Vegan experiences - using the magma core taps to provide heat and solar panels for power. Humans had survived under far worse conditions than pertained on this planet. At least on Pern, you knew when and where Thread would fall and could mount effective defenses And yet, the scale of Threadfall was awesome and failure had appalling consequences. Failure usually did.