Dragons Dawn

Later that night, when the sounds of Landing’s industry were muted, Sorka wondered if she had conceived. Sean slept neatly and quietly beside her, his fingers lightly encircling her upper arm. Sorka had never mentioned a formal arrangement to Sean, or ever pointed out the common assumption of Landing’s population that they were a tempered team. She and Sean were of one mind in nearly everything they did, utilizing their veterinary apprenticeship to breed strong horses, finding the very best among the genetic stock available from either the banks or the live stallions. They were soon to sit their final exams in veterinary medicine and they had located the perfect spot for a home – a valley halfway down the Eastern Barrier Range. Sean had taken Red to see the proposed Killarney Stake, and her father had approved emphatically of their choice. Sorka took that as a tacit approval of their still informal union.

Although Sorka’s parents had acquiesced, Porrig Co

“I won’t breed so close, Mam,” Sean had informed her when she had nagged him once too often. “It’s bad for the blood. Lally Moorhouse’s father was your first cousin. We need to spread the gene pool not enclose it.”

Sorka had overheard, but she knew Sean well enough by then not to be hurt that he had said no more about choosing. Perhaps he had not known then that he loved fifteen-year-old Sorka Hanrahan, who was already certain where her heart had been given.

She had been seventeen before he had touched her with any kind of passion, and that had been a night to remember. Their roles had become reversed: she, the wanton; he, the hesitant, tender lover. Her ardent response to his gentle overtures had surprised and pleased them both, but they had not moved to separate quarters until she had passed her eighteenth birthday. It had become a custom in their generation to have a trial period prior to a formal declaration before the magistrate.

Sorka wanted Sean’s child badly. Ever since that hideous half hour treading water under a stone ledge, she had been aware of their mortality. She wanted something of Sean – just in case. Not that he was wild or incautious, but the Lilienkamp boys had not been reckless, and certainly poor Lucy Tubberman had not. So many people had been wiped out in that First Fall.

Sorka did not want to be left with nothing of Sean. She had not tried before to conceive, because pregnancy would have interfered with their plans for Killarney Stake: they needed the work credits for every acre they could purchase. She worried that there was something wrong with her that she had not gotten pregnant before, with all the incautious fooling around that she and Sean had enjoyed. But she was no longer fooling. That night she had meant business.

Wind Blossom opened the door to Paul Benden, Emily Bol, Ongola, and Pol and Bay Harkenon-Nietro. Gracefully inclining her head in welcome, she held the door wide for them to enter.

Kitti Ping was seated on a padded chair that, Paul decided, must be raised off the ground under its cover, giving it the semblance of an archaic throne. She looked imposing, a feat for someone half his height. A beautiful soft woven rug had been tucked about a frail body, and a long-sleeved tunic with elaborate embroideries also increased her general look of substance and authority. She raised one delicate hand, no larger than his oldest daughter’s, and indicated that they were to be seated on the stools set in an irregular circle in front of her.

As Paul doubled his long legs to sit, he realized that she had achieved a subtle advantage over her visitors. Amused by the tactic, he smiled up at her and thought he could detect the merest hint of acknowledgment.

Only a few strong ethnic traditions had survived the Age of Religions, but the Chinese, Japanese, Maori, and Amazon-Kapayan were four that had retained some of their ancient ways. In Kitti’s Pernese house, which was exquisitely furnished with heirlooms from her family, Paul knew better than to disrupt a hospitality ritual. Wind Blossom served the visitors fragrant tea in delicate porcelain cups. The little plantation of tea bushes, grown to sustain the lovely ceremony had been a casualty in the First Fall. Paul was poignantly aware that the cup of tea he sipped might be the last he would ever taste.

“Has Mar Dook had a chance to inform you, Kitti Ping, that he has several tea bushes in reserve in the conservatory?” Paul asked when everyone had had time to savor the beverage.

Kitti Ping inclined her head in a deep bow of gratitude and smiled. “It is a great reassurance.”

Such a bland reply gave him no opening wedge. Paul moved restlessly, trying to find a comfortable position on the stool, and he knew that Pol and Bay were bursting to discuss the reason for the interview.

“All of us would be more reassured, Kit Ping Yung” – Abruptly he modulated his voice which sounded so much louder after her delicate response. – “If we had . . . some form of reliable assistance in combating this menace.”

“Ah?” Her pencil-thin eyebrows rose, and then her tiny hand made a vague gesture about the armrests.

“Yes.” Paul cleared his throat, a

“As you know, none of the colony ships carried any defensive or destructive weaponry. Even if we could construct laser sweep beams, there isn’t fuel enough to move even one ship into an effective position to a

“Boris and Dieter have confirmed our worst fears: Thread will sweep across Pern in a pattern that will denude the planet unless we can stop it. We ca

Kitti raised her delicate eyebrows in unfeigned surprise. “The morning star is the source?”

Paul sighed heavily. “That is the current theory. We’ll know more when the probe returns its survey.”

Kitti Ping nodded thoughtfully, her willow-slender fingers tightening on the armrests.

“We are, Kit Ping Yung,” Emily said, sitting even more erect on her stool, “in a desperate situation.”

Paul Benden was heartened in an obscure way to see the governor as much like a nervous school child as himself. Pol and Bay nodded encouragement. Kitti Ping and Wind Blossom, who stood slightly behind her grandmother’s left side, waited patiently.

“If the dragonets were only larger, Kitti,” Bay broke in, her ma