"I told them to take the day off," she said, clearing her throat authoritatively, ignoring the fact that Sean, de facto leader of the dragonriders, had told her in no uncertain terms that he and his group would not be available for work until the next day.

"But the dragon actually went between?" Jim asked amazed.

Emily nodded briskly, blinking against a sudden moisture in her eyes. "I saw… Duluth do it. He and Marco were there, midair, one moment, the sled descending on top of them, and then… gone!" She cleared her throat again. "So, if we have to find some good out of the tragedy, there it is. The dragons can do what the fire-lizards can. Now, if their riders can now figure out how to do it on a… safe, return basis, we may yet have our aerial force."

"Right now, though, it's the naval forces we must organize," Paul said, standing up and lighting the screen of his work terminal. "Fortunately, there's a good warehouse at Paradise River where we can stash nonvital supplies for later runs."

"So we do use the small craft again?" Per Pagnesjo, captain of the Perseus, asked.

Paul nodded. "For one thing, those sailers are intrinsically valuable in themselves and not just for what we can load on them." He turned to the dolphineers. "How are your friends standing up to this?"

Theo gave a bark just as Ben snorted. "It's a nice new game we've figured out for them," Theo answered.

"Glad someone's finding some enjoyment out of all this," Paul said with a grim smile.

"Trust dolphins for that," Theo said. Her genuine grin turned Paul's into one less strained. "Well, we don't need to rush so much to get to Paradise, do we? That'll make it easier and safer."

"We'll have to use personnel who are not slated for the next Threadfall, though," Paul added, switching his terminal to another setting. "We had to let Maori Lake take its chances, but we've got to keep Thread burrows to a minimum."

"Even if we're abandoning the southern continent?" Theo asked.

"We're not abandoning the continent, nor entirely removing everyone," Paul said. "Drake wants to continue; so do the Gallianis, the Logorides; and the Seminole, Key Largo, and Ierne Island groups. Tarvi's keeping the mines and the smelters going. Since they work underground or in the cement block sheds, they're reasonably safe from Thread, though food resources may have to be augmented from our supplies."

"They may have to come north in the end, if we can't supply them from our stores," Emily said sadly.

"So…" Paul said, briskly bringing the meeting back to the matter at hand. "Joel's got some imperative supplies that ought to be shifted immediately north. Kaarvan, your ship has the biggest capacity: Can you undertake that voyage while the other ships redistribute loads and follow when laden? Desi, can you give him a hand with the manifests?"

"If I get my crew to it now, we can shift and reload cargo and be ready to sail by the evening tide," Kaarvan replied with a nod, and left without further comment.

"Desi, I want manifests of every crate and carton you take, red and orange," Joel Lilienkamp shouted after his assistant, and received a backhanded wave. "How"—Joel turned to the others, hands upraised in helpless resignation– "are we going to keep track of what is where and. . . everything."

For the first time since Jim Tillek had known the able commissary chief, he saw the energetic man at a loss, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the task. Joel had had everything so neatly cataloged and organized at Landing: he had always known exactly on what shelf in what building any particular item was stored. But even his legendary eidetic memory would be unable to cope with the present confusion. Jim felt a deep sympathy for Joel.

"Joel," Emily said firmly but somehow soothingly, "no one but you could have pulled off such a comprehensive evacuation of goods and people."

Perhaps only Jim noticed the order of importance implied in her compliment, and he rubbed his face to hide an appreciative grin. In Joel's lexicon, people could take care of themselves, but goods had to be taken care of, and their location should be known at any time of day or night.

Joel shrugged. "It's what'll happen now that deeply concerns me. There're materials we have got to have immediate access to, and unless I have the records of all the loads that went out of Landing by sled, as well as those taken by boat from Monaco…"

At that point, Johnny Greene came in, looking jaded but also gloating. "Don't anyone ever say ‘it can't be done' in my presence," he announced to all. Joel perked up expectantly as Johnny went on. "Got generators up and runnin', and ten terminals. Programmed to take visual, audio, recorder inputs and then correlate. Will that do you for now, Joel?"

"It most certainly will." Joel bounced to his feet as if he hadn't just been in the depths of despondency. "Where've you got them set up? Lead me." He got as far as the shelter door before he turned back. "I'll need personnel."

"Whoever isn't doing something else I hereby authorize you to draft until those records are transferred," Paul said with a chuckle. But his amusement died as he turned back to his own screens, pursing his lips with two fingers. "We still have some pretty hairy problems. Ezra, can you also put back on your captain's hat? We'll have to take the smaller craft along the shoreline all the way to Key Largo before we make a final dash across to the northern continent. I can't see any other way of getting all the people and materiel there. One vast convoy, with dolphin support, keeping one of the bigger ships as guardian, while the others make straight journeys from Kahrain or Paradise to the Fort?"

"Let's also count on shifting the convoy guard ship now and again," Jim said after exchanging a quick glance with Ezra. "Even with decent weather—and that eruption's going to mess weather patterns past the predictable point—it's going to be some safari."

"But can it be done?" Paul asked.

Jim twisted one shoulder. "We got here. We'll get there. Sooner or later."

"It's the later that worries me," Paul responded.

Jim hauled his recorder out of his pocket and tapped out a query. "Well, let's just see what we can do, Paul." He peered down at Benden quizzically. "You and Em will go north"—he grinned in lazy irony—"to prepare a place for us… so d'you want to be admiral of the Pernese Navy, Ez, or do I get the short straw this time?"

"Let's stick to being captains and working as a team as we usually do," Ezra replied in his dry fashion, but he clamped an affectionate hand on Jim's shoulder as he peered over at the recorder's data.

"Not all the stuff's been lifted out of Landing yet," Joel said, poking his head in through the door. "I'm organizing all available sleds to bring up the last. Can I get the dra—"

Emily held up her hand. "They'll be back on line tomorrow, Joel!"

Joel scrunched his eyes shut and grimaced. "Sorry. Tomorrow'll be good enough." And he was gone again.

"There was a fleet like this once before," Jim said to Theo Force, who was the dolphineer on duty at the time the Southern Cross was leading the way out of Kahrain Cove.

"Like that?" Theo jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the strung-out line of ill-assorted vessels. Dressed in her body wet suit, breather flung over one shoulder to be ready for use instantly, she had stretched out her strong tanned legs on her side of the cockpit. Jim had an eye for a shapely leg, even one generally showing scars from many brushes with underwater obstacles. He was also becoming accustomed to Theo's subtly attractive face. Well into her third decade, she was not a conventionally pretty woman, but her rather plain features nevertheless indicated her strong character and purposefulness.