"I think we must, Warbret," Bargen said as he rose and turned, courteously inclining his body toward F'lar and then Master Robinton. "Good day. And good luck."
The other lords left with him.
"I don't mean to dash all this optimism," Gdened of Ista Weyr said, "but Aivas said nothing to the point of just how we're going to accomplish the elimination of Thread."
"No, he didn't exactly, did he?" R'mart agreed, shaking his head as if to clear it. "The ancestors had a lot more equipment and gadgets and those sleds. If they couldn't get rid of Thread, how shall we?"
"There is a time for all things to be accomplished," Aivas said. "As mentioned last night, several conclusions had been made. The most important, for you, is that in four years, ten months, and twenty-seven days, it will be possible to jolt the eccentric planet out of its present orbit, permanently. It will then be close to the orbit of your fifth planet, far from Rukbat though, as you now know, the Thread swarms still follow it past Pern."
The Aivas had the stunned attention of everyone in the room as a diagram of Rukbat's planets blazed on the screen. They moved slowly around their primary, and the wanderer crossed at an angle to them.
F'lar gave a weak laugh. "The dragons of Pern are strong and willing, but I don't think they could move the Red Star."
"They will not," Aivas said. "For to attempt the feat would be to endanger their lives and their riders'. But the dragons are able to perform other, vital tasks that will allow you to alter that planet's course permanently."
Once again everyone was silent.
"That I might live to see the day," G'dened of Igen murmured fervently. "I'd go forward another four hundred Turns if we could do that!"
"If that could be done," R'mart asked, "why didn't our ancestors do it?"
"The conjunction of the planets was not then auspicious." The Aivas paused briefly, then went on with what Master Robinton heard as irony. "And by the time these calculations had been made, all had gone north, leaving this facility unable to inform its operators." Aivas paused again. "The dragons you have nourished to such size and strength will be critical to the success of the project. If you are willing."
"If we are willing!" T'gellan and T'bor cried in astonished chorus. All the dragonriders sprang to their feet. Mirrim hugged T'gellan's arm, her expression fierce with determination.
"F'lar's not the only one," N'ton added, "whose greatest wish is to exterminate Thread!"
D'ram, the oldest of the riders, had tears streaming down his cheeks. "We are nothing if not willing, Aivas. Even this old man and his ancient dragon!"
From outside came a chorus of dragons bugling, the rich bass of the bronzes, the thrilling sopranos of the queens, and the high piercing tone of Mirrim's green Path.
"It will not be an easy task, " Aivas said, "and you will have to study assiduously in order to lay the necessary foundation to bring success to that day."
"Why must it be four years, ten months, and whatever days?" K'van, the youngest Weyrleader, asked.
"Twenty-seven days," Aivas corrected him. "Because that is the precise moment when a window will be open."
"A window?" Inadvertently K'van looked at the new one in the wall.
"As a rider, you always take your dragon to a precise place when you go between, do you not?" K`Van was not the only rider to nod agreement. Aivas went on. "It is even more important to be precise when one is traveling in space."
"We're going to be traveling in space?" F'lar asked, gesturing toward the screen where they had briefly seen what space was like.
"In a manner of speaking," Aivas said. "You will come to understand, and correctly interpret, the terms that define the tasks before you. In the lexicon of space travel, a window is the interval that brackets the moment within which you have flexibility to achieve your objective, also traveling in space. If this is to succeed-"
If?" R'mart almost yelled. "But you said it could!" He glared accusingly at F'lar.
"The plan is viable and has every chance of succeeding if the requisite effort is put into its implementation," Aivas said firmly. "But success will depend on the learning of new skills and disciplines. It is obvious that while all dragonriders are dedicated men, you also have little leisure at your command. But the dragons and the riders are requisites to the task, supported by Craftmasters and those Lord Holders who will lend men and women as support staff. It would be best if everyone on the planet could be involved in the project. As were your ancestors."
"I still don't see why our ancestors didn't take care of the problem when they had the chance to," R'mart said.
"Your ancestors did not have dragons the size and intelligence of yours. The species has evolved and exceeded the original genetic specifications. If you will observe..." Images of two dragons flicked onto Aivas's screen. "The bronze is Carenath, Sean O'Connell is his rider, and the other is Faranth and Sorka Hanrahan." Two more dragons appeared on screen, three times the size of the first two. "Now, there are Ramoth and Mnementh. The scale of comparison is accurate."
"Why, that bronze isn't as big as Ruth," T'bor said, shooting an apologetic glance at the Benden Weyrleaders.
"No, he doesn't seem to be," F'lar replied equably. "You've made the point, Aivas. Now, how do we start this training you speak of?"
"Not today, certainly," Aivas said. "The first priority is a proper power source, which Master Fandarel has been good enough to undertake in his efficient fashion." Master Robinton swung to stare sharply at the screen. Aivas continued. "Second, the installation of the additional stations. Third, a supply of paper sufficient for hard copy for instruction and explanation. Fourth-"
F'lar waved both hands, grinning. "Enough, Aivas. When the craftsmen have done your bidding, we'll be ready to take instruction. That I promise you."
"Good," Master Terry said, rising from his stool and hitching his heavy tool belt to a more comfortable position. "Are you leaving here now?" he asked amiably. "Because I've got more connections to make to Aivas, and you're in my way."
"There'll be food and drink in the conference room by now," Lessa said, encouraging everyone to leave.
Master Robinton waited until all the others were well down the corridor. He glanced at Terry, busy laying out the cables and muttering to himself.
"Aivas?" the Masterharper said in a whisper, "do you have a sense of humor?"
There was a distinct pause before the reply came. "Master Robinton, this facility is not programmed for senses. It is programmed to interact with humans."
"That is not an answer."
"It is one kind of an explanation."
With that, Master Robinton had to be content.
The four Eastern Weyr dragonriders glided down in a spiral to the hillside above the dam. All interest in the ancients' settlement had been centered on Landing. No one had yet had any occasion to wander about the nearby hills looking for evidence of the settlers' handiwork, so the presence of an obviously man-made lake for Fandarel had dammed up a few useful streams in his Turns as apprentice and journeyman in the Smithcrafthall and recognized the configuration-was yet another surprise.
The lake stretched back, a glittering long finger contained between two high ridges. The dam had been built across the neck of the southeast end. Though the structure had been broached and two cascades fell gracefully from the height into the ravine below, it was still the biggest dam Fandarel had ever seen.
The marvelous thing, Master Fandarel realized, was not that it had been made, but that so much of it had survived for twenty-five centuries. As D'clan's brown Pranith skimmed the top, Fandarel could see that the passage of all that time had taken some toll on the dam. Grooves, like the bites of a creature larger even than a dragon, had been gouged in the top, creating openings for the falls to tumble through. Floods, no doubt, he decided, pushing large boulders or debris relentlessly against it. He pulled on D'clan's sleeve and pointed a thick forefinger vigorously downward. D'clan nodded, grinning, and in the next instant, Pranith tightened his spiral and glided to a neat landing on the left-hand side, the longer intact span.