"They can't complain when your exodus leaves them with a lot more space."

"No, but they'll agitate to try and bring up more of the stock they had to leave behind," Red said with some acerbity.

Paul shook his head. "No transport. There's no one will get Jim Tillek to bring his precious Cross out of that watery cavern he's stored it in. And, with Per and Kaarvan gone fishing most weeks…" Paul shrugged. "I see you're requisitioning the use of five sled-wagons? How long will you need them?"

With almost no power packs left to run the airsleds, many had been stripped to hulls and fitted with wheels as ground vehicles. The smaller ones were useful for hauling stone from excavations within the Hold. The bigger ones were too wide for more than the well-traveled road down to the sea, but they were capacious and had even survived—better than the goods they'd been carrying—unexpected long drops down mountainsides.

"Who else is moving out, Paul?" Red asked. Rumors were rampant, but so far his party was the only one he knew of that was actually asking for a final clearance.

"Zi Ongola'd like to try that western peninsula." Paul went to the map and tapped the marker on the tip of the landmass.

"Good on him. No wonder I couldn't get any more of the Duffs to come with me. We'll bring the wagons back as soon as we've finished using them. And I'll loan out the oxen teams I've trained, if that'll help Zi."

"It certainly would, and I know he'll thank you when I pass the information on."

"He's got the longer haul."

"He's also got to find a passable way through the High Ranges," Paul said with a sigh. "The cave system's satisfactory where he wishes to settle. The way there is not. We might be able to bore a tunnel, if necessary. Plenty of hydroelectric sites."

Red knew that Paul would miss Zi Ongola, who had been his second officer and close friend since the two had served together in the Cygnus Campaign. Red was a little surprised that Zi would leave, but he'd be a good leader, and pressures in the Fort had to be reduced. Many dissident voices were quieted only because the admiral was universally admired and the justice of his regime respected as fair and equable.

Most of the problems afflicting the Hold were due to the cramped conditions. The "good" years when the colony was starting up had allowed people freedom and scope, which they treasured all the more now that it had been denied them by the terrible fall of Thread. During the first few years when Fort Hold had protected them, gratitude for that haven had overcome the discomforts and inconveniences, but as the birthrate soared and the stony corridors resounded with the cries of fretful babies, tempers had begun to rise.

The establishment of South Boll had been the first major attempt to relieve the congestion, and so far it was successful—for those who had resettled at the new holding under Pierre de Courcis's leadership. But exploring appropriate premises was time-consuming, and with Thread continuing to fall, any outbound journeys had to be carefully timed and safe layover shelters built along the way. Then some caves were found to be either waterless or too small to shelter enough people to be worth development.

"Yes, Zi's got a big job ahead of him, yet we must make the attempts if this colony is to succeed. Threadfall won't last forever!" Paul brought one hand down with a hard slap on his armrest. "By all that's holy, Hanrahan, we'll still make Pern ours, with everyone owning his or her own place, no matter what rains down on us!"

"Of course we will, Paul. And we Hanrahans will hold our place! And multiply. You can be sure of that!" Red said, grinning smugly. Mairi had just weaned their latest and, he hoped, last child. She'd told Red she wanted to have a dozen offspring, but the repeated pregnancies were beginning to take their toll on her.

"For Mairi's sake, I hope you have too much to do for any more of that." There was a twinkle in Paul's eye as he regarded the veterinarian. "How many have you fathered now?"

Red waved his hand, his grin broader. "Nine's enough to insure our genes will continue. Ryan's the last I'll permit her, and I made sure of no more to come."

Benden gave a snort. "Especially when your sons and daughters are like to pass you out in production figures in a year or two."

"Well, Mairi's good with children. She genuinely likes them in all stages of their development. More than I do," Red added with some acerbity.

"Got a name for this Hold of yours?"

Red made a disclaiming sound. "Hell, Paul, I've been so busy with plans, lists, and contingencies, naming's a detail I haven't given much thought to. We'll think of something appropriate, Mairi and the rest of us."

Paul Benden rose then, made an effort to straighten the slump of his shoulders, and held out his hand. "Good luck Red. We'll miss you here…"

"Ha! You'll be glad to see the backsides of us. And so will the Logorides and the Gallianis."

Benden gave a genuine laugh. Despite the fact that breeding had clearly had to be kept to an absolute minimum, the Logorides and Gallianis had felt themselves constantly deprived by the restrictions. Pierre de Courcis had taken nine of the scions of the two large families, and a substantial number of their cattle, when he went south to settle Boll, but the two senior men continued to grieve for the "marvelous fine bloodlines and stock" they'd had to leave behind at their southern stakeholds.

"They enjoyed freedom far longer than most of us. It was harder to give it all up," Benden said in oblique apology.

Red cocked his head briefly to one side. "Who hasn't given up a lot—to stay alive!"

Paul wrapped Red's hand in both of his and gave it one final hard shake. "When do you plan to go?"

"Sean says we've got three full clear days come Tuesday. We'll be organized and ready by then."

"So soon?" Benden's tone was almost wistful.

"On a good horse, Admiral," Red said, unable to resist teasing the former naval man, "you could ride the distance in two days. Be good for you to get away now and again."

"I've never even got as far south as Boll, and that's nearer."

" ‘Tisn't, with those hills to climb," Red protested. "I'll send you a special hand-engraved invitation, Paul Benden, and you'll come for the good of your sanity! I'll sic Sean and Sorka on you. A-dragonback's the shortest way to come," he added as he paused at the door.

Benden laughed. "You talk Sean into letting someone else ride his precious Carenath and I'll come!"

"Good!" Red gave a brief sharp nod and grinned. "Then we'll show you what we've done with the new Hold when we've done it!"

Nearly a third of the Hold's population managed to be on hand when the Hanrahans' expedition moved off. Every passenger-carrying animal was laden as well with some bundle or other. The sleds were carefully packed; the largest, with the Hold door, was drawn by six teams of oxen, beasts Red had carefully picked for their docility and trained for such work. He'd bred them himself from a genetic pattern Kitti Ping had produced for him: slightly adjusting weight, strengthening bone, thickening hide, and enlarging both heart and lungs to encourage a disease– and fatigue-resistant hardy animal, much stronger and more adaptable than the Terran beasts that had been brought in vitro.

Safely stored in an insulated crate were the special fertilized eggs with which Red Hanrahan hoped to develop varieties of equines more suitable to Pern's needs: a heavy-weight animal of Percheron proportions for the plow; a swift, lean racing type that could carry messengers long distances on little fodder; and a comfortable riding animal, a pacer like the ancient Paso Fino, which had been a mountain breed of great agility and endurance, and, more important, possessing the easiest possible long-distance riding gait.