Chap. 65 The First Day of the Rest of Time

Chap. 65  The First Day of No Thread

Out of an abundance of caution (and, many would say, a bit of skepticism), the weyrleaders of Pern had their wings in the air, preparing for Threadfall.

It was a day no different than that when, for over two millennia, dragons had taken to the skies to flame the dreaded parasite.

But this day was different. This was the day that Aivas had predicted would be the first day for the rest of  time, without Thread.

It had taken years, long years after the Red Star had been shifted ever so slightly in its orbit, the one that had for millenia, enabled its following tail of Thread to fall onto Pern. Dragged from the Oort cloud,Thread would still follow it, for ever-gravity hadn't changed-but would completely miss its target. It would float in space, fruitlessly, forever.

It was a day perfect for their foe. Bright sunshine made it difficult to see Thread until one was right atop it. The winds were variable and blowing at a high enough speed to scatter Thread into tiny, diffuse patches, rather than tight, easily flamed clumps.  The winds would turn a clump from one direction to another in a second, blowing it into face of a dragon or it's rider, scoring them without mercy. In the clear, cloudless sky, the humidity was low and there wasn't a drop of rain in the forecast. It was weather that dragonriders feared most, for it gave Thread every advantage to falling unhindered to the ground below. It was Thread Weather.

The wings coursed the skies over the predicted threadfall area. The charts F'lar had made years before were still accurate. If Thread fell, it would be here. Just as it had done for over a thousand years.

M'rvin had his wings in the air, coursing in tight formation over the predicted thread fall area.

Every rider, every dragon, looked for thread. They waited, flying in  disciplined formations, ready to instantly go on the offensive should Thread fall.

They waited. They waited.  They waited.  The expected time came and went. M'rvin held his wings still in the ready. Maybe Thread was late. Maybe he'd misread the chart. Maybe his watch was wrong. Maybe, maybe Aivas had miscalculated?

But Thread had never been late, not in his lifetime. Like the steady progression of the planet, nothing had stopped it before.

M'rvin, along with everyone else, felt his or her heart swell. The skies were clear, brightly lit sunshine, not a cloud…perfect weather for thread. Save for the thread.

There was no Thread. There would be no Thread. Ever again.

Unbidden, the dragonriders began to cheer. They shouted, they roared in joy. No thread. Never again. Aivas had been right. Again.

M'rvin dared to call his wings to return to the Weyr. Sacks of unused firestone would be unloaded. Flame throwers would be discharged. Ground crews would go home, glad that they'd had a nice walk on a lovely day. Dragons would be unharnessed after what had turned into merely a training exercise in mass flight formation.

The celebrations were ready to go.  Across the planet, the weyrs had all, without discussion, planned on a party, a celebration of their release from almost twenty five hundred years of duty.

Holders and the holdless, farmers and miners, fishers, hunters and herders, people who weren't accustomed to keeping to the tight schedule, in many cases didn't even notice that thread didn't fall.

But the dragonriders knew. And rejoiced.