The door to the faculty room opened and Seamus O’Connell peered in.
M’hall smiled and waved him over.
“I was wondering when you’d come wandering by,” M’hall said as his
youngest and largest brother pulled a seat over to join them.
“The Lord Holders have been on to me about the stonecutters,” Seamus
began with no preamble. “It occurs to me that you might want them yourself
for this project.”
“It didn’t seem clear to me that this project has been approved,” Emorra
remarked.
Seamus glanced at M’hall for confirmation. M’hall laughed. “My little brother
is making his feelings on the notion quite clear.”
Tieran looked thoughtfully at the two of them. “You mean, where Benden
leads, who will fail to follow?”
“Only when Benden is right,” Seamus added in his soft, deep voice. He
gave Tieran a frank look. “It’s a risky proposition, but . . .”
“Our parents thrived on similar ‘risky propositions,’ ” M’hall finished.
“The dragons,” Tieran guessed.
“So it seems fair that we should entrust their deliverance to the same family
that has guarded them so well,” Emorra said with a nod toward M’hall.
“It’s not that,” Seamus demurred. “Benden makes more sense.” At the
others’ questioning looks, the big engineer explained, “I’ve looked over the
survey maps of the Weyr. There aren’t many places to hide a new structure.
But there is one good place, except . . .”
“What?” M’hall prompted.
“It is situated near a fault line,” Seamus replied. “I can almost guarantee
that the rooms will be cut off from the Weyr by a rockslide within the
century.” He winked at them and added conspiratorially, “Or sooner, if need
be.”
“But why—” Emorra began.
“Oh!” Tieran interrupted. “I see.” He turned to Emorra. “We build the rooms
and then cut them off from the rest of the Weyr so that no one will disturb
them until they’re needed.”
“But how will anyone know about them?” Emorra asked. Tieran shrugged.
“So you’d be wanting the stonecutters, then?” Seamus asked. He looked at
each of them in turn, then added, “Because if you do, you’ll have to fight
Mendin to get them.”
Mendin consoled himself that he still had two of the stonecutters and that
possession was nine-tenths of the law. All he needed was to find
sufficiently trained personnel to use them—and quickly. He could see
himself apologizing oh-so-obsequiously to the Weyrleaders: “Oh, I am
sorry! If only I’d known beforehand that you wanted them.”
Yes, that apology would do nicely, Mendin decided. He was about to call
over one of his minions when he was distracted by a commotion at the
door.
It was his oldest son, Leros, whom Mendin had left to mind the Hold.
“The stonecutters are gone,” Leros whispered when they were seated and
the others in the room had returned to their own conversations.
“Dragonriders from Benden Weyr took them.”
For a moment blind fury coursed through Mendin’s veins. How dare they!
He reasserted an iron grip on himself before his emotions were displayed
on his face.
“I see,” he said aloud, furiously racking his brain for a way to turn this to his
advantage. He looked up at Leros. “I think that Fort Hold should throw its full
support behind this project.”
He turned to the others and raised his voice so that all could hear. “I can
see now that this will be a great legacy to our descendants and nothing less
than they would expect of us. Just as our ancestors bequeathed us the
dragons for our defense, so we should bequeath these medical rooms for
the defense of the dragons.”
The other Lord Holders exchanged looks as they digested this change of
tack on Mendin’s part.
“I agree,” Malon of Tillek seconded firmly. “Pern is nothing without the
dragons.”
And so it was decided.
“You are the most well-trained doctor we have,” Wind Blossom began
again, hoping that somehow repetition might alter Janir’s response.
“In human physiology, Wind Blossom,” Janir protested again. “I know
nothing of the dragons or the Pernese genetic code.”
“But you’ve learned so much that is applicable through your medical
training,” Wind Blossom replied. “It wouldn’t take you long to pick up on the
Pernese genetics.”
“But I am the head physician,” Janir objected. “I will never have the time
you’ll need.” He took a deep breath and shook his head in wonderment at
her obstinacy. “I will have too many patients to deal with and there is no
substitute. In fact, I should be training my replacement this very moment.”
Wind Blossom raised her eyebrows.
“I should be training
three
replacements,” Janir corrected himself in
response to her unspoken query. “And
that
will also eat into my time.” He
glanced over at Emorra and Tieran. “You are going to have to use
them—they know more about this than I do.”
Wind Blossom deflated with a sigh. “I suppose you are right,” she
conceded. “But if I cannot convince them . . .”
“Then ask M’hall,” Janir replied. “I think he’ll convince them.”
“If he can’t, then I want to know that you’ll take their place,” Wind Blossom
declared.
“If they won’t work with you, Wind Blossom, we’ll talk again,” Janir replied.
Just then M’hall entered the room, wearing a victorious look.
Late that evening, well after the Holders and Weyrleaders had unanimously
agreed to use the last of the stonecutters to create a medical laboratory at
Benden Weyr, and had agreed that Wind Blossom would be responsible
for its contents, Emorra found herself in the faculty lounge along with
Tieran. Wind Blossom had gone to her bed much earlier, after informing
Tieran and Emorra that she would require their help on the project.
Cool, clear Benden wine had been poured liberally in celebration.
“Tieran,” Emorra said as the effects of the wine belatedly registered on her,
“I’ve drunk more than I should. We’ll need our rest. Mother will be certain to
want to start early in the morning.”
Tieran looked reluctantly at his half-full glass, tossed it back in one gulp,
and rose. “May I escort you to your room?”
Emorra dimpled, and allowed Tieran to help her to her feet.
Tieran realized that he was taller than Emorra; he couldn’t remember when
that had happened. Her cheeks were flushed with wine and her eyes—her
almond eyes were warm and enticing.
“If I made a pass at you,” he suddenly asked, “would you mind?”
“No,” Emorra said softly, leaning toward him.
Tentatively, Tieran leaned forward and kissed her.
In the two days since the council, Wind Blossom appropriated a classroom,
turned a surgery into a lab, and slept for a grand total of six hours—Tieran
knew because he’d gone to sleep
after
she did, and he’d gotten a bit more
than five hours of sleep.
They were in the classroom now. Wind Blossom was at the blackboard,
chalk in hand, writing down their suggestions.
“The dragons must save themselves,” Wind Blossom pronounced. Tieran
bit back a retort as he noticed the look of intense concentration on her
face.
“Are you saying that they will build an immunity?” Emorra asked as Wind
Blossom’s silence lengthened. “But we have no way of knowing the
mortality rate of this infection.”
“We do not know enough about this illness,” Wind Blossom declared. “The
people in the future know about it, but we do not.”
She paused to let the others comment, but Tieran and Emorra only nodded
in wary agreement.
“We know how to alter the genetic code of the dragons, and we know how
to create specimens and map genetic material, but they do not.”
Again, she paused for comment and again, there was none.
“They cannot bring their knowledge to us without also bringing the infection
itself,” Wind Blossom continued. “So we must bring our knowledge to
them.”
“But M’hall said the dragonriders couldn’t—” Tieran protested.
At the same time Emorra cried, “That would infect our dragons, too!”
Wind Blossom rapped the chalk on the blackboard, the noise echoing
harshly around the room, until the other two were silent.
“We will teach them,” she declared. “We will teach them how to collect
specimens, use the mapper, and construct genetic code.”
Tieran sat back again in his chair, his brows furrowed thoughtfully. Beside
him, Emorra gnawed her lip unconsciously, her eyes closed in
concentration.
“You mean we’ll make classrooms?” Tieran asked after a while. “To teach
people chemistry, biology, and technology?”
He shook his head. “I don’t see how we can do it.”
Wind Blossom frowned at him. “Teach them how to identify the infection
and how to engineer an antigen,” she said. “That is not hard.”
“So you mean to explain everything in layman terms,” Emorra said. She
cocked her head in consideration. “It could work.”
Tieran gave Wind Blossom a penetrating stare. “It bothers me that there
has never been a report of illness in the fire-lizards. I thought it was an
axiom that an ecosystem will always evolve.”
“You’re saying that something should have come up in eight years?”
Emorra asked, frowning in disbelief.
“No, in fifty years,” Tieran answered. “In the same time, we’ve had a major
epidemic nearly wipe us humans out, and yet the fire-lizards, dragons,
watch-whers, wherries, and, for all I know, tunnel-snakes seem not to have
suffered from any form of viral, bacterial, or fungal assaults.”
“I see what you mean,” Emorra replied.
“You are forgetting Pernese genetic code,” Wind Blossom said, shaking
her head in disappointment.
“No, I’m—” Tieran said hotly, only to cut himself off. “Oh,” he admitted,
going slowly pink, “I am.”
“What about it?” Emorra asked, looking from Tieran to Wind Blossom and
back for an explanation. Wind Blossom gestured to Tieran to answer.
Tieran took a breath. “Well, you have to remember how Pernese genetic
code differs from ours.”
“Mmm?” Emorra murmured, gesturing for him to continue.
“Well, our genetic code is composed of two strands of DNA joined in a
double helix,” Tieran said. “Whereas Pernese genetic code is composed
of three strands of what we call PNA joined in a twisted triangle.
“Two of the strands complement the major strand,” he went on. He walked
up to the blackboard and gestured to Wind Blossom, who surrendered the
chalk. With a nod of thanks, Tieran turned to the blackboard and began to
draw. He drew a series of triangles stacked on top of each other, each
twisted slightly out of line with the one preceding it. The corners of the
triangles he filled in with dots. He proceeded to label the dots: A, A’, N; B,
N, B’; C, C’, N.
On another part of the board he drew the long-familiar double helix of DNA,
creating a twisted ladder and labeling the “rungs” on one half of the ladder,
A, C, G, T while labeling the other side of the ladder T, G, C, A.
Tieran jabbed a finger at each of the letters in turn. “A stands for adenine, C
for cytosine, G for guanine, and T for thymine.
“They are grouped in threes and each group of three is called a codon,” he
said. “Each codon codes either an amino acid or is a special marking
signifying the start or end of a genetic sequence.
“Because there are four possible amines taken three at a time, there are
sixty-four possible variations, but terrestrial DNA only encodes twenty
amino acids along with one start and one stop codon.”
“I remember now,” Emorra said. “It always seemed wasteful.”
“It allows room for expansion,” Tieran said. “It also allows for errors or
mutations to creep in. Typically there are six to seven hundred mutations in
each newborn.”
“So that’s why we get sick,” Emorra remarked.
“More because the viruses and bacteria that attack us mutate than because
of our mutations,” Tieran replied. “But sometimes it is our mutations that
cause problems.”
He turned to the twisted triangle of the Pernese genetic code.
“Here, A, B, and C are only simple names for the different Pernese amines
that make up their genetic material,” Tieran said. He pointed to the dot
marked A’. “A-prime, here, is merely the amine that binds to A, and so on
for B-prime and C-prime.”
“So what’s N?” Emorra asked. “Null?”
“Exactly,” Tieran agreed. “One of the fundamental differences between
Pernese genetic material and terrestrial DNA is that instead of having two
strands that are mirror images of each other, PNA has a main strand and
two other strands that alternately mirror the main strand.”
“So does PNA have four pairs in a codon?” Emorra asked.
Tieran shook his head. “No, just three like our DNA.”
Emorra raised her eyebrows at that. “So that means that PNA can only
code twenty-seven variations.”
“That’s right,” Tieran said. “Of course, we only need twenty-two out of the
sixty-four that can be coded with DNA, so PNA is actually more efficient.”
“They code twenty amino acids?” Emorra asked, looking at Wind Blossom.
“No, they code twenty-three amino acids,” Wind Blossom corrected.
“They also code two different START and STOP sequences,” Tieran
remarked. “That leaves no spare codings.”