"There has to be some way to pa.s.s on that vital information to future generations," said Paulin, looking first at Clisser and then scanning the faces at the table. "Let's have a hard think. "

"Etching on metal's one way... and prominently placing tablets in every Weyr and Hold so they can't be stored away and forgotten."

"A sort of Rosetta Stone?" Clisser's tone was more statement than query.

"What's that?" Bridgely asked. Clisser had a habit, which annoyed some folk, of dropping odd references into conversations: references with which only he was familiar. It would lead to long lectures from him if anyone gave him the chance.

"On Earth, in the late eighteenth century, a stone with three ancient languages was discovered which gave the clue to translating those languages. We shall, of course, keep our language pure."

"We're back to etching again," said Corey, grinning.

"If it's the only way..." Clisser began and then frowned. "No, there has to be some fail-safe method. I'll investigate options. "

"All right then, Clisser, but don't put the project aside," Paulin said. "I'd rather we had a hundred sirens, bells and whistles going off than no warning at all." Clisser grinned slowly. "The bells and whistles are easy enough. It's the siren that will take time. "

"All right then," and Paulin looked around the table.

Toe-tapping dance music was all too audible and the younger holders and weyrfolk were plainly restless. "No more new business?" He didn't wait for an answer but used the gavel to end the meeting.

"That's all for now. Enjoy yourselves, folks." The speed with which the Hall emptied suggested that that was what all intended to do.

Gather at Fort

"Cliss, what on earth possessed you?" Sheledon demanded, glowering. He was head of the Arts faculty at the College and constantly jealous of what free time he had in which to compose.

"Well," and Clisser looked away from Sheledon's direct and accusing glare, "we do have more records and are more familiar with the techniques of accessing them than anyone else. Information and training are what this College was established to provide."

"Our main function," and Danja took up the complaint she wanted spare time in which to work with her string quartet, "is to teach youngsters who would rather ride dragons or acquire many klicks of Pernese real estate to use the wits they were born with. And to brainwash enough youngsters to go out and teach whatever they know to our ever widely-spreading population."

Dance music swirled about them, but Sheledon and Danja were so incensed that they seemed oblivious to the rhythms that were causing the other three at their table to keep time with foot or hand. Danja shot Lozell a peevish look and he stopped rattling fingers callused from harp strings.

"I don't think it'll be that hard to find some way to indicate a celestial return," he said in an attempt to appease the wrath of Sheledon and Danja.

"It isn't the 'hard' that bothers me," Danja said acidly, " but when will we have the time?" She stabbed her finger at the as-yet-unfinished extension to the teaching facility.

"Particularly since there is a time limit," and she shot another dirty look at Clisser. "Winter Solstice."

"Oh," and Lozell grimaced. "Good point."

"We're all working every hour we can spare from cla.s.ses on what's urgent right now," Danja went on, gesturing dramatically and pacing up and down the length of their table.

While Sheledon closed in on himself when threatened, Danja exploded into action. Now her nervous movements knocked the chair on which she had placed her violin and she reacted, as quickly, to keep the valuable instrument from falling to the cobbles. She gave Lozell a second nasty look, as if he had been responsible.

Sheledon reached across and took violin and bow from her, putting them very carefully on the table which had been cleared of all but wine gla.s.ses. Absently he mopped a wine spill near the precious violin, one of the few usable relics from Landing days. He gave it a loving pat while Danja continued.

"Like today," she said, resuming her pacing, "we taught in the morning, managed to eat something before we spent an afternoon painting so that there will be some finished rooms for the summer term. We had five minutes to change and even then we missed the fly-past which I, for one," and she paused to jab her thumb into her sternum, "wanted to see."

"We've played two sets," she went on earnestly, "and will undoubtedly still be playing when the sun rises, and tomorrow will be a repeat of today except no Gather, so we get a good night's rest to prepare us for more of the above, except maybe get a little work done on next term. Which starts in a week, and then we'll have no time at all since we now have to prepare the teachers who'll be graduated to carry The Word to the outer extremities of the continent." She gestured eastward in a histrionic fashion, then flounced down on the chair the violin had occupied. "So how are we going to find time to do yet more research, Clisser?"

"We always do find the time," Clisser said, his quiet rejoinder a subtle criticism of her rant.

"Use it as a history cla.s.s project?" suggested Lozell brightly.

"There you have the answer," said Bethany who had merely, as was her habit, watched the fireworks Danja was so good at sending up. "My juniors could use an independent project."

"So long as we have power to run the library," Danja added sourly.

"We will, we will," Clisser said, with bright encouragement.

"Kalvi had his engineers up on the heights during the fly-past working on the sun panels. They'll hook them up to the main banks tomorrow. "

"Other people worked today, you know. "

"Well, that's a big consolation," said Danja acidly.

Clisser refilled her gla.s.s. "And we'll need some catchy tunes and good lyrics, too, I should think. Something to teach students from a very early age so that they learn all the signs of a Pa.s.s before they learn to ask questions about it."

"One and one is two, two and two are four?" Danja sang the old multiplying song, then grinned wryly.

"The song remains an effective teaching aid," Clisser said, filling his gla.s.s. "Shel, would you put on your composer's hat and whip up some simple effective tunes?" Sheledon nodded enthusiastically.

"I've been saying for years that we ought to incorporate more basic stuff into a musical format. Jemmy's good at little popular airs." Most of his songs were geared to show off the talent of his soprano spouse, Sydra, who taught history and, in her spare time, was chronicling the early years of the colony.

Bethany's face lit up with a great smile. Jemmy was a favorite pupil of hers, and she was his staunchest champion.

Even Danja looked mollified.

"So," Clisser went on, having solved one of his immediate problems, what shall we do in the next set?"

"Just like that?" Danja demanded. "What'll we do in this set? Clisser, will you get real!"

Clisser looked hurt. Bethany leaned over and patted his hand, smiling encouragingly.

"What did you mean by that, Danja?" Clisser asked.

"Don't you realize what a huge responsibility you just so casually... and Danja lifted wide her arms, flinging her hands skyward in exasperation, laid on us all?"

"Nothing we can't solve, dear," Bethany said in her gentle manner. "With a little thought and time."

"Back to time again. Do we have time?" Lozell was back in the discussion. "Especially if the winter's even half as bad as it was last year... and it's supposed to be, with that d.a.m.ned Red Planet leering down on us... how are we going to cope?"

"We will. We always do," Sheledon said with a sigh of resignation. "Paulin will help us out. And certainly the Weyrs do."

Danja glared at him. "We've changed tunes, haven't we? I thought you thought we didn't have time."

Sheledon shrugged diffidently. "I think Lozell's idea of making a survey a cla.s.s project will solve that problem. And, if Jemmy can whistle up some lyrics, I can certainly churn out some tunes. Or maybe Jemmy can do both in his spare time."

Sheledon's face softened into a wry grin. He had had a tussle with himself, not to be jealous of Jemmy whose brilliance was multi-faceted. Though he wasn't officially graduated from the Hall, he already ran several smaller study groups and seemed able to do a bit of everything - on a high level. The consummate Jack of all Trades, Clisser called him.

"And what if, by leaving it to the student body - who are, as most students, indifferent researchers - the best notion is missed?" Danja asked.

"That's why we're teachers, dear," said Bethany. "To be sure they don't miss an obvious solution. They can at least save us having to sort through pounds of material and present us with the most viable options. We can put Jemmy in charge; he reads the fastest and his eyes are younger."

Just then, the instrumentalists on the stage wound up their last number and received an enthusiastic ovation from both the sweating dancers and the onlookers drinking at the tables.

They filed off the stage.

"All right, what set do we do, Clisser?" Sheledon asked, tossing off the last of his wine as he got to his feet.

"Those seniors did a lot of fast dance music," Clisser said.

"Let's give everyone a chance to catch their breaths and do some slow stuff... the old traditionals, I think. Start with 'Long and Winding Road' - Put everyone in a sentimental mood."

"Hmmm... then we can get some supper while the juniors do what they so erroneously call 'music'," said Danja, who had considerable contempt for the contemporary loud and diatonic musical fad.

"Can't please everyone all the time," Clisser said, collecting his guitar. He drew back Bethany's chair for her and offered her an arm.

Smiling in her gentle way at the courtesy, she picked up the flute in its worn hard-case, her recorders in their leather sleeves and the little reed whistle that had won its maker a prize that year. It had a particularly sweet, clear tone that young Jemmy had been trying to reproduce with other reeds. Then she limped forward, seemingly oblivious to her clubbed foot and awkward gait, her head high, her gaze directed ahead of her.

Jemmy joined them from his table, automatically taking Bethany's flute case from her. He was drummer for their group, though he had been playing guitar with others. Unprepossessing in physical appearance, with pale hair and skin and oversized features, he was self-effacing, indifferent to his academic achievements. While not in the least athletic, he had won the long-distance races in the Summer Games for the last three years. He did not relate well, however, to his peer group.

"They don't think the same way I do," was his diffident self-appraisal.

That was, of course, accurate since he had tested off the scale of the standard apt.i.tude tests given prospective scholars.

His family, fishers at Tillek Hold, didn't understand him at all and at one point thought him r.e.t.a.r.ded. At fourteen he had followed his siblings into training in the family occupation. He lasted three voyages. Though he had proven himself an able navigator, he had had such constant motion sickness - "never acquiring sea legs" - that he had been useless as a deck-hand: a source of much embarra.s.sment to his family. Captain Kizan had interested himself in the lad and recommended the boy be trained as a teacher, and sent Jemmy to Fort Hold for evaluation. Clisser had joyfully accepted him - finding such an avid learner was a real boost to his morale. And, when Clisser had seen how Jemmy galloped through even the hardest lessons, he had set up an independent study program for him. Although Jemmy had perfect pitch, he couldn't sing and started playing instruments to make up for that lack in himself. There was nothing he couldn't play, given a few hours of basic training.

Although his family, and indeed the Lord Holder Bastom, too, had expected him to return to Tillek to teach, Clisser had argued hard that anyone could teach the basics to hold children: he would supply a suitably trained candidate. But Jemmy must be allowed to continue at the College Hall, benefiting the entire continent.

What no-one at the Hall mentioned beyond their most private sessions was that Jemmy seemed intuitively to know how to fill in the gaps left by improper copying or damaged records. His notations, short and concise, were models of lucidity. The College could not afford to do without his skills and intelligence. He wasn't a good teacher, being frustrated by mental processes slower than his own, but he could, and did, produce manuals and guides that enhanced the basic texts the settlers had brought with them. Jemmy translated 'Earth' into 'Pern' If his peer group did not enjoy his company, he enjoyed that of his mentors and was fast outstripping all of them in knowledge and practical applications. It was also well known if tacitly ignored, that he idolized Bethany. She was consistently kind and encouraging to everyone, but refused to accept any partner. She had long since decided never to inflict her deformity on offspring and refused any intimacy, even a childless one.

Clisser wondered, though, as he and Bethany made their sedate way to the stage, if Jemmy might not breach the wall of her virginity. He was certain that Bethany cared more for the Tillek lad than anyone else in the thirty years he had known her - student and teacher. She was a lovely, gentle woman; she deserved to be loved and love in return.

Since there were ways of preventing conception, her prime concern could be taken care of. Clisser thought the age difference was immaterial.

And Jemmy desperately needed the balance that a fully rounded life experience would give him.

Clisser and Jemmy provided support for Bethany to ascend the un railed steps to the stage and then, with a swirl of the long skirts that covered the built-up shoe she wore, she settled herself in her chair. She placed her flute case and the recorders where she wanted them, and the little reed flute in the music stand. Not that this group of musicians required printed sheets to read from, but the other groups did.

Danja lifted her fiddle to her chin, bow poised, and looked at Jemmy who hummed an A with his perfect pitch for her to tune her strings. Sheledon softly strummed his guitar to check its tuning and Lozell ran an arpeggio on his standing harp. The continent's one remaining piano - his preferred instrument - was undergoing repairs to the hammers: they had not yet managed to reproduce quite the same sort of felt that had been used originally.

Clisser nodded at Jemmy, who did a roll on his hand drum to attract attention and then, on Clisser's downbeat, they began their set.

It was several days before Clisser had a chance to discuss the project with Jemmy.

"I've wondered why we didn't use the balladic medium to teach history," Jemmy replied.

"It isn't history we'll be setting to music."

"Oh yes, it is," Jemmy had contradicted him in the flat and tactless way he had. It had taken Clisser time to get used to it.

"Well, it will be when the next generation gets it - and the next one after that."

"That's a point, of course."

Jemmy hummed something, but broke off and sprang across to the table where he grabbed a sheet of paper, turning it to the unused side.

He slashed five lines across it, added a clef and immediately began to set notes down. Clisser was fascinated.

"Oh," Jemmy said offhandedly as his fingers flew up and down the lines, "I've had this tune bugging me for months now. It's almost a relief to put it down on paper now that I've a use for it."

He marked off another measure, the pen hovering above the paper only briefly before he was off again. "It can be a show piece anyhow. Start off with a soprano - boy, of course, setting the scene. Then the tenors come in - they'll be the dragon riders of course, and the baritones Lord Holders, with a few ba.s.ses to be the Professionals... each describing his duty to the... then a final chorus, s.a.t.b., a reprise of the first verse, all Pern confirming what they owe the dragons. Yes, that'll do nicely for one."

Clisser knew when he wasn't needed and left the room, smiling to himself. Now, if Bethany was right and this term's students could perform the research satisfactorily, he could make good on his blithe promise to the Council. He did hope that the computers would last long enough for a comprehensive search. They had got so erratic lately that their performance was suspect at most times. Some material was definitely scrambled and lost among files. And no-one knew how to solve the problem of replacement parts. Of course, the pcs were so old and decrepit, it was truly a wonder that they had lasted as long as they had. Was there any point these days in holding a course on computer electronics?

Which thought reminded him that he had interviews with two sets of parents who were insisting that their offspring be put in the computer course since that was the most prestigious of those offered. And the one involving the least work, since there were so few computers left.

Where would they practice the skills they learned? Clisser wondered.

Furthermore, neither of the two students concerned had the apt.i.tude to work with mechanical objects; they just thought it was what they wanted. There were always a few cases like that in an academic year.

"And one set of Holder parents who did not like their daughter a.s.sociating with lesser breeds without the law" as Sheledon put it.

"As if there was room, or facilities, for more than one teachers' school. Or the private tutors some Holders felt should be supplied them because of their positions. Ha! As it was, the peripatetic teachers were going all year long, trying to cover the basics with children in the far-flung settlements.

Well, maybe one day they could site a second campus - was that the word? - on the eastern coast. Of course, with Threadfall coming, he'd have to revise all the schedules as well as instruct his travelers on how to avoid getting killed by the stuff. He had seen footage - when the projector still worked - of actual Threadfall. He shuddered.

Accustomed as he had been all his life to the prospect of the menace, he still didn't like the inevitability. The reality was nearly on them.

The Weyrleaders could waffle on about how well prepared Hold and Weyr were, with dragon strength at max, and ground crews and equipment organized, but did anyone really know what it would be like? He swore under his breath as he made his way to the rooms that still needed to be completed to receive occupants in five days. He'd work on the syllabus on his lunch break.

A sudden thought struck him so that he halted, foot poised briefly above the next step. What they really needed was a totally new approach to education on Pern!

What was the point of teaching students subjects now rendered useless here on Pern? Like computer programming and electronic maintenance? What good did it do the Pernese boys and girls to know the old geographic and political subdivisions of Terra? Useless information. They'd never go there! Such matters did not impinge on their daily lives. What was needed was a complete revision of learning priorities, suitable to those who were firmly and irrevocably based on this planet. Why did anyone NOW need to know the underlying causes of the Nathi s.p.a.ce War?

No-one here was going to get in s.p.a.ce - even the dragons were limited to distance which they could travel before they were in oxygen debt.

Why not study the spatial maps of Pern and forget those of Earth and its colonies? Study the Charter and its provisions as applicable to the Pernese citizenry, rather than prehistoric governments and societies? Well, some of the more relevant facts could be covered in the course to show how the current governmental system, such as it was, had been developed. But there was so much trivia - no wonder his teachers couldn't get through the lessons. Small wonder the students got bored.

So little of what they were presently required to learn had any relevance to the life they lived and the planet they inhabited.

History should really begin with Landing on Pern well, some nodding acquaintance with the emergence of h.o.m.o sapiens, but why deal with the aliens which Earth's exploratory branch had discovered when there was little chance of them arriving in the Rukbat system?

And further, Clisser decided, taken up with the notion, we should encourage specialized training - raising agriculture and veterinary care to the prestige of computer sciences. Breeding to Pernese conditions and coping with Pernese parasites was far more important than knowing what had once bothered animals back on Earth. Teach the miners and metal workers where the spatial maps showed deposits of ores and what they were good for; teach not the history of art - especially since many of the slides of Masterpieces had now deteriorated to muddy blurs - but how to use Pernese pigments, materials, design and tailoring; teach the Great Currents, oceanography, fish-conservation, seamanship, naval engineering and meteorology to those who fished the waters... As to that, why not separate the various disciplines so that each student would learn what he needed to know, not a lot of basically useless facts, figures and theories?