Actually Bethany’s students had found them after an intensive search of long-unused documents. Fortunately for Clisser’s peace, Sallisha had gone to Nerat for the Turn’s End celebration, ready to start her next year’s teaching Contract. He was spared any reminder from her of how important it was to keep such ancient knowledge viable.
He had rehearsed arguments, in case he had a letter from her, about the fact that, in the crunch, someone had remembered.
He was quite excited - if freezing - to be on Benden Weyr’s Rim with the others, telescopes set up, aimed in the appropriate direction while Kalvi and Jemmy fiddled with their components. Kalvi had put up a cone for the pointer; the notion being that a person resting their chin on the cone’s tip would see the Red Planet bracketed just as it cleared the horizon. They’d have to try it with folks of various statures to be sure that the device worked, but technically, Clisser thought it would. Kalvi was the shortest, he was tallest, M’shall was a half-head shorter, and Jemmy between the Weyrleader and Kalvi. If all could see the Red Planet in the Eye, the device would be proven.
Well, it would really be proven in another two hundred and fifty years or so with the Third Pass!
But this moment was exciting. He slapped his body with his arms, trying to warm himself. His feet, despite the extra lining, were frozen; he could barely feel his toes, and his breath was so visible he worried that it might cloud his chance to see the phenomenon.
“Here it comes,” said Kalvi, though Clisser could see nothing in the crepuscular dawn light. Kalvi was looking at his instrument, not the sky.
A tip of red appeared just over the bottom of the Eye a breath or two later. A redness that seemed to pulsate. It wasn’t a very large planet - from this distance, it wouldn’t be, Clisser thought, though they had the measurements of it from the Yokohama observations. It was approximately the same size as Earth’s old sister, Venus. And about as hospitable.
Somehow, Clisser thought - and told himself to breathe as he watched, the wanderer managed to look baleful in its redness. “Hadn’t one of the other Sol satellites been called the red planet”?
“Oh, yes, Mars. Suitable, too, since it had been named after a war god.”
“And equally a suitable color for a planet that was about to wreak havoc on us. How could such an avaricious organism develop on a planet that spent most of its orbit too far away from Rubkat’s warmth to generate any life form?” Of course, he was aware that very odd Life forms had been found by the early space explorers. Who had blundered into the Nathi, to name another vicious species?
But the reports on this mycorrhizoid gave it no intelligence whatsoever. A menace without malice. Clisser sighed. Well, that was some consolation: it didn’t really mean to eat everything in sight, people, animals, plants, trees; but that was all it could do.
Which was more than enough, Clissser thought grimly, remembering the visuals of recorded incidents. That’s another thing he ought to have done - a graphic record - even a still picture would make vividly plain how devastating Thread could be. Iantine’s sketches done at the Bitran borders had impressed the Teacher immensely. Though it was a shame to waste Iantine’s talents on a copy job. Anyone could copy; few could originate.
Meanwhile, the red edge crept up over the Rim of Benden Weyr. “THAT’S IT!” Kalvi cried. He was lying on his stomach, the iron circle in his hands. “I got it. Cement it in place now. Quickly. You there at the Finger Rock. Eyeball the phenomenon. All of you should see it bracketed by this circle.” The viewers had lined themselves up and each took a turn even as Kalvi raced back to grab a look from this vantage point.
“Yup, that’ll do it. You got that solidly in place? Good,” and the energetic engineer turned to M’shall. “As you love your dragon, don’t let anyone or anything touch that iron rim. I’ve used a fast-drying cement, but even a fraction out of alignment and we’ve lost it.”
“No-one’ll be up here after we leave,” M’shall promised, eyeing the metal circle nervously. For all he knew that the ring was iron, it looked fragile sitting there, the Red Planet slowly rising above it.
“But that’s going to be replaced, isn’t it? With stone?”
“It is, and don’t worry about us messing up the alignment later. We won’t,” Kaivi said, blithely confident, rubbing his hands together and grinning with success. “Now, we’ve got some more dawns to meet.”
“Yes, surely, but take time for breakfast.”
“Ha! No time to pamper ourselves. But I was indeed grateful for the klah.” Kalvi was gathering up his equipment, including five more iron circles, and gesturing to his crew to hurry up. “Not with five more stops to make this morning. The things I talk myself into!” He looked around now in the semi-dark of false dawn.
“Where’s our ride?”
“That way,” M’shall said, pointing to the brown dragons and riders waiting around on the Rim.
“Oh, good. Thanks, M’shall” And rings clanging dully where they rode on his shoulder, Kalvi gathered up his packs and half-ran, his crew trailing behind. Clisser sighed and followed.
Well, he thought, he’d be well inured to the cold of between.
They’d have an hour and a half between Benden and Igen, but then only half an hour from Igen to Ista to Telgar, where they’d have a little over an hour and time for something hot to eat before going on to Fort. High Reaches was actually the last Weyr to be done, which really didn’t salve S’nan’s pride all that much, but sunrise came forty-five minutes later in the northernmost Weyr due to the longitudinal difference. However, S’nan couldn’t argue the point that Benden had to have its equipment installed first since it was the most easterly.
Clisser had heard the talk about S’nan’s continued distress over Chalkin’s impeachment. The Fort Weyrleader was not the oldest of the six: G’don was, but no-one worried about his competence to lead the Weyr. S’nan had always been inflexible, literal, didactic, but that wouldn’t necessarily signify poor leadership during the Pass. Clisser sighed. That was a Weyr problem, not his. Thank goodness! He had enough of them.
He’d catch some rest when they finished at Fort Weyr so he’d be fresh for the final rehearsal at the Hall. If Sheledon had altered the score again during his absence, he’d take him to task. No-one would know what to play with all the changes.
Get this performance over with and then refine the work. It was, Clisser felt, quite possibly Sheledon’s masterpiece.
“You’re riding with me, Teacher,” a voice said. “Don’t want you walking off the Rim!”
Clisser shook himself to attention and smiled up at the brown rider. “Yes, yes, of course.”
“Here’s my hand,” and Clisser reached up to it.
“Oh, thank you,” he added to the dragon who had not only turned his head but helpfully lifted his forearm to make an easier step up.
Then he was astride the big dragon, settling himself, snapping on the safety strap.
“I’m ready.” Clisser did catch his breath though when the dragon seemed to just fall off the Rim into the blackness of Benden’s Bowl.
He grabbed at the security of the safety strap and then almost cracked his chin on his chest as the dragon’s wings caught the air and he soared upward.
They were facing east, and the malevolence of the Red Star was dimmed by the glow of Rukbat rising, altering the rogue planet’s aspect to one of almost negligible visibility, almost anonymity, in the brightening sky.
Amazing! thought Clisser. I must remember to jot that down.
But he knew he never would. And Pernese literature was thus saved another diarist, he amended. Clisser saw that the rider, too, had his eyes fastened on the magnificent spectacle. He must savor this ride.