DragonDays

[Kath]

I've been inspired to put together a bit of a fanfic about the original dragon riders, filling in a gap between Dragonsdawn and the short stories in Chronicles. It'll gradually get written over the next week or so [edit: who was I kidding? It's now JUNE!], but until its finished feel free to add as many plot suggestions in the FEEDBACK forum as you like.


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DragonDays

Episode 1: A mature discussion, or, How do you spell "Proddy"?

Tarrie Chernoff ran her fingertips lightly across the edge of the warped metal sheet currently serving the dragonriders as a table, and snorted in disdain. It was a far cry from the smooth contours of the previous one, lightweight aluminium decorated with a coloured plastic veneer, which had once graced the wardroom of the Bahrain. The new one might still be big enough for all two dozen odd riders to gather round, plus the ground crew leaders when tactics for a fall were being discussed, but size wasn't everything. And the practicality of the thing wasn't an issue either. The wide metal expanse was propped up on boxes of hardware, allowing it to be stowed neatly aside when it wasn't in use. Rickety and uneven it might be, but it served, and every space in the caverns seemed to serve three or more purposes these days.

"Sorry I'm late!" Nora Sejby gasped as she entered the room at a trot, completing the complement of riders. Near on two turns of solid threadfighting had steadily removed every last trace of clumsiness that the woman had possessed as a girl, and Nora was now recognised as one of the more competent users of a flamethrower amongst the gold riders. Not quite competent enough to challenge Tarrie for her leadership of the second wing, but close. Of course, there wasn't any real rivalry amongst the wings - thread was enough of an enemy without the need to add another through petty human failings. No, they were a close-knit team, far more so than the regular ground crew squads. The dragons were responsible for that, Tarrie was certain. Team work was crucial for threadfighting, whether on the ground or in the air, sled or dragon, flamethrower or dragonfire. But recently, the bond between the riders had seemed stronger than ever. Only another rider could understand what it was like, sharing that inseparable bond with your dragon. The long hours of physical endurance, the burns from char or acid, the bitter ice of between, the gut-clenching fear every time you met thread in the air... and the ever-present, rock solid togetherness that she had with Porth, a twin soul within her. No, that wasn't something you could share with the land-bound.

"Not to worry, Nora."

Sean's forgiving tone broke through Tarrie's thoughts in an instant, and she brought her attention swiftly back to the rest of the group. That tone usually meant that someone else was due for a haranguing, and she glanced across at Sorka for confirmation. The other rider's face was grim beneath her cheery freckled complexion. Trouble was on the cards, sure enough. Tarrie pulled her folding chair closer to the so-called table, and tried to find a smooth spot on which to rest her arms before it all came out. I wonder who's cocked up this time? But she'd scarcely finished thinking when a sudden sharp pain shot through her senses.

"Shaffit!"

Tarrie nearly unseated herself as she pulled back again, lifting a hand to reveal a thin line of red already beading with blood. Nora gave her a grimace of commiseration, seemingly glad to have the groups attention drawn away from her in such a dramatic manner. Oh, they all knew what that tone meant, all right!
"Tarrie?"
She ignored Jerry's solicitous inquiry on one side of her, and also Dave Caterel's swift offer of a hanky on the other, concentrating instead on soothing Porth's insistent concern.

I'm fine, love. Just a scratch from this dratted new table! I know it hurts, but it's nothing, really.

With Porth satisfied, she looked round at the two riders beside her. Really, closeness between the riders was one thing, but at times the others seemed downright clingy! It was stifling, that's what it was. And as for that puppyish expression on Jerry's face!

"I'm fine, Jerry, it's nothing some numbweed can't fix," and for sure they were more grateful than ever to that native plant! Tarrie almost snatched the hanky from Dave's outstretched hand. "And that'd better be a fresh one!" she snapped, regretting it almost instantly. Well, you might as well hang for the sheep as the lamb.

Pressing the hanky to the ball of her palm, she looked up at Sean.
"Sean, I don't care what else is on today's agenda, but I'm moving this... table to the top of it."

"Seconded," Otto added without a pause, giving it a rock for good measure.

Surprisingly, Sorka didn't give her usual eye-roll at Otto's remark; the man had an annoying habit of seconding anything raised, even if it conflicted with whatever he'd backed the meeting before. And Sean didn't bat an eyelid either, and he was usually very picky about keeping fast to his plans. Even the disturbed papers which fluttered to the ground elicited no comment. He simply looked Tarrie in the eyes, and nodded.

"Very well," he said coldly. "We'd be getting on to it pretty soon anyway."
He glanced across at his wife, and Sorka passed a handful of flimsies around the table.

"That's a report of the crop situation back in the main Fort Holding, and around Pierre de Courci's stake. I don't expect you to read it all, but the projections on what's available from the fields and hydroponics are chilling. Especially after the debacle of last fall."

Tarrie had wondered at the relevance of Sean's initial comments, but now it all became quite clear.

"We agreed, I wasn't at fault for that," she said firmly, fists clenching. Damn the man for bringing it up now. A rider stayed behind after every fall to be certain the groundcrews tracked down every last burrow successfully, and with so few dragons it was a rare fall indeed when the Pernese escaped unscathed.

"No, but with fifteen acres of arable land lost, along with every single plant, and every gram of nutrient in the soil... to a single burrow!" Sean leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "We can't afford mistakes like that again, and we can't begrudge the loss of a mere table. The hydroponicists needed it more than us. Wouldn't you agree?"

Abashed, Tarrie relaxed back into her own seat. She'd half stood up without realising it.
"Yes, yes, they need it more than us," she said, and sighed. "Do carry on."

Tarrie let the debate continue around her, as the other riders discussed the options for replanting, and the other tracts of land that were particularly difficult to protect from fall. Her own background in meteorology allowed her to make a few astute judgements of where the weather would be likely to help them out, or where unpredictable thermals would cause problems, and she almost found herself preening at Sean's praise of her suggestions. That wasn't like her at all. In fact, her moods were all over the place today!

Faranth says Sorka asks if you're really okay?

Bemused by her dragon's query, Tarrie made eye contact with Sorka. Pregnancy hadn't dulled Sorka's uncanny ability to read moods, not that anyone would be having trouble guessing Tarrie's mind set today. The red-head's hands were cupping her growing belly, and the question was clear.

Tell Faranth to tell Sorka that I'm fine, but I'll check with Basil later to be sure. The complications brought about by frequently miscarrying an unexpected pregnancy could keep a goldrider out of action longer than actually bearing a child to full term. Better safe than sorry, and they needed every rider in the air right now. It wasn't just that they were over stretched, but everything else seemed to be failing around them. The sleds were virtually all grounded and steadily being recycled into carts, and each month it seemed that fewer of the small dragonets fought alongside them. And as for the groundcrews... oh they were brave enough without the recourse of a dragon and the ability to safely dodge between, but they expected so much of the riders these days. Always expecting more falls to be covered, but never being able to spare the extra bodies to man the falls on the ground. And every burrow blamed on the aerial defences.

The most recent fall had been the last straw. Tarrie's calm explanation of the limitations of dragons - there was only so much thread that three wings could catch, after all, especially in those conditions - hadn't exactly gone down well. Of course more dragons were needed, the ground crew had agreed. Of course the dragonets and groundcrews should play their part. But if the dragonets and groundcrews could provide replacements, what was wrong with the dragons? They were engineered to breed more than enough like them, weren't they? If anyone was failing Pern, it was the dragons, less use than the small cousins they'd been created from. What's wrong with your dragon, goldrider Chernoff? Small wonder she'd stormed off without double checking the groundcrew's work, without catching the burrow they'd missed. Oh, they'd been apologetic enough when they called her back a half hour later, with live thread still roiling across the field, but it'd taken her whole wing most of the rest of the day to bring the outbreak under control.

"So that's decided then."
With all other options exhausted, Sean's voice finally brought the discussion of what grounds they could cover to a close. "On to the next item on the agenda. Sorka?"


"We all know that a lot of people out there doubt us, and the viability of the dragons as a long-term defence against thread. I also know Tarrie's not been the only one to catch the brunt of it recently." The other wingleader glanced across at her with a smile of reassurance. "Well, Sean and I would like to reassure you that their fears aren't yet warranted. We may not be as familiar with the program as Kitti or Wind Blossom, but none of their predictions suggest that the golds should have mated and clutched already, though it surely can't be much longer now. And compared with the other milestones of our dragons development, at least when it comes to mating, this isn't something that Sean can slip out and try on his own."

Laughter echoes around the table, and the mood rapidly improved.

"Hopefully it won't mean a whole new set of flying trousers, either," Nora added with a giggle.

"We'd be fools not to expect some complications, though," Sorka said on a more serious note. "And it doesn't hurt to try and figure out what they might be beforehand. Sean and I talked it over, and I think we have to take our cue from the dragonets..."

"Fire lizards."

Sorka blithely ignored Sean's old joke and went on.

"The dragonets first, and Kitti's program second. Genes are one thing, behaviour quite another."

"But with all of our dragons from, what, six batches of eggs in two hatchings, how do we know they'll all react the same?" If at all. There, Tarrie's own doubts were out in the open now.

"Oh come now Tarrie," Jerry reached over to give her arm a squeeze. "Kitti's tweaks were so minor at the end, there's nothing to tell which dragon come from where." He gestured at the six riders of the younger dragons from the second clutch. "You've said yourself that there's no discernible difference between them." Wind Blossom's own experimental beasts, those ugly photophobes, were diplomatically left unmentioned.

"It's not whether they rise that bothers me," Alianne said quietly, "but how it affects us, their riders. The empathic bond is so much stronger than with the dragonets, and though we don't need to act on their impulses, it's pretty easy to get carried away."

Alianne was one of several female riders partnered to a non-rider, in this case one of the engineers busily carving access tunnels and installing plumbing in their new home. Tarrie could certainly see why she might be a little concerned about getting carried away with Chereth's activities.

"That's certainly one issue," Sean agreed.

"There are more?" asked Catherine, rolling her eyes in mock-despair. She too had a happy marriage with a Fort Weyr Joat to maintain, and it hadn't proved easy to reconcile her husband with Siglath's demands over the first year of their dragons' lives. With so many people crammed into the tight quarters of the available habitable caverns, tensions had soared along with the divorce rates, but already there seemed to be a mild social disapproval attached to such acts. Not like the old world, Tarrie's parents had claimed, even suggesting that the growing stigma was more to do with the fact that the colonists' few legists were now training a number of young adults to take on the extra work. But "Lawyers" wasn't a curse-word on Pern... yet!

Of course, Sean would be most concerned with successful flights, producing large clutches of healthy, viable, thread-fighting dragons. The rider always came second with him. As if echoing Tarrie's thoughts, Sean continued with one of his standard lectures.

"The needs of dragon kind come first right now. We owe it to them to get this right, first time. As I'm sure you're bored of hearing," he went on with a twinkle in his eyes, "we can't afford mistakes."

"And so we need to be prepared," Sorka continued. "We know how the gold dragonets behave before rising, more or less, but we have to be certain we havn't missed anything out. The most sensible place to start is probably pooling our knowledge of our own dragonets' behaviour. We need a good idea of how much variation there is in their behaviour, and between the mentasynth enhanced ones and those in the wild."

"If you're asking for volunteers to watch mating lizards on a sunny beach in the south, well count me in!," Pete Semling remarked with a broad smirk, setting Catherine's eyes rolling once more.

"That's certainly something worth following up," answered Sorka as she scribbled on a spare flimsy, "and you're now top of the list for that job."

Once again, Tarrie simply listened as the conversation ebbed and flowed around her. Really, for everything they knew, the most important facts would be absent until things finally happened. Would Porth, the first hatched of the queens, actually rise first as some of the others seemed to think? Was Jerry's fawning behaviour a conscious decision, or just coincidence? Eventually, it all just became too much.

"Face it guys, we don't know anything useful yet!"

This time, Tarrie made it all the way upright, and she slammed her folding chair closed. "You watch the dragonets all you like, but I doubt they'll tell me anything I need to know about my Porth. If you need me, I'll be with her."

Brushing aside Nora's appeal to stay, Tarrie calmly stacked her chair on top of the pile by the wall, and left the room. At least Porth was a soothing influence on her, without the hormonal ups and downs of a human, and the sooner they were together again, the better. But perhaps she should get Basil to check her over sooner rather than later. These mood swings simply weren't like her at all.

[Kath]

Episode 2: Tea with Wind Blossom
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A stiff breeze was blowing through Fort Hold that morning, and it seemed to pierce every single opening with ease. Although less blustery and dangerous than it had been during fall on the preceding day, it was still an annoyance. As Sorka entered the Xeno lab, it lifted a handful of papers and flimsies off the nearest table and wafted them across the room. She hurriedly closed the heavy door behind her, and toggled the electric lights. A dim glow appeared from a single fluorescent tube, the remaining seven either broken or disabled. But the four workbenches each had their own movable spotlights, alongside the computer terminals, microscopes and banks of chemical analysis devices which seemed to fill every millimeter of free space.

Sorka walked across the lab towards the disturbed documents, sidestepping the awkward bulk of a large dewar flask of liquid gas on the way. Holding the papers up to the meager light, she leafed through them out of curiosity. Already the Pernese scientists were learning to make do with the limited resources available, and the grey recycled paper was simply covered in writing, most likely in Wind Blossom's tiny hand. Most of it seemed to relate to a study of enzyme balances, though Sorka had quite lost track of the Xenobiologists' research since Impressing Faranth. There simply hadn't been time to keep up, and as a trainee vet she'd always concentrated on the more practical elements besides. These days, most of the work done in this lab was tinkering with livestock ova, but Wind Blossom and the Nietros still continued their study of both the indigenous Pernese organisms and the engineered dragons and... uglies. Sorka smiled as she realised the purpose of the dimmed lighting - Wind Blossom would have been working with her creatures in here. They were usually stabled in a dark cave downwind of the other animals, but Wind Blossom seemed strongly attached to several of the creatures, and with the geneticist living in an adjoining room, Sorka wouldn't be too surprised if one or two of the animals were permanently resident.

Deciding to leave the uglies' biochemistry to the experts, Sorka returned the documents to their home. She placed them back on the table nearest the door, but must have jostled it slightly in the process, as the rotating globe of Pern filling an adjacent display screen was abruptly replaced by several programs. Curious, Sorka took a few moments to observe them. A constant stream of calculations filled one window, while the familiar triple-helix of draconic DNA-analogue spun in three dimensions in another, flexing, splitting and recombining under the influence of other molecules. What looked like a series of cells appeared in another window, under siege from a bombardment of different interlopers of various sizes. A virus? Prions? The mono-molecular nanoids of the Nathis? Sorka was at a loss to figure it out. The dragonets certainly seemed to have suffered no ill effects from meeting humanity, not like the tribal cultures of the old world. Any residual illnesses in their evolution seemed to have been well tamed millennia ago, and now lay in dormant symbiosis. At least, that's the conclusion she thought Bay Harkonen-Nietro had reached, but the technicalities went way over her head. A rarity it might be, but the robust good health of the dragonets and their larger cousins was all that really mattered.

Hearing a noise from the adjoining room, Sorka remembered her mission. After yesterday's meeting, they'd agreed that someone should speak to Wind Blossom about the dragons.
"Wind Blossom? It's Sorka. Could I trouble you for your opinion?"

"Of course," came the reply after a short delay. "I thought I heard someone come in. Dim the lights on your way in if you wouldn't mind, and make yourself comfortable while I heat up the kettle."

Sorka made her way through to the inner door, and entered Wind Blossom's sitting room. A spicy scent pervaded the atmosphere, not dissimilar to that of the dragons. And sure enough, sparkling in the far corner of the room were the fractured eyes of one of Wind Blossom's creations, misshapen facets reflecting the weak light given off by a basket of aged bioluminescent fungus in an alcove by the door. While many people had found the newly hatched dragons to be awkward, ugly creatures, there was no disagreement when it came to the photophobes. The beast was larger than a dog, but smaller than a donkey... A full-grown pig might be a better comparison for size and weight, but even that didn't give a full appreciation of the creatures, with their irregular conformation almost painful to the eye. It seemed to be a gold, though it was hard to tell, and Sorka was reluctant to allow any comparison with Faranth.

The ugly animal reared up on its hind limbs, and opened its awkward wings with a sharp flap. A sound somewhere between a growl and a hiss emitted from its mouth, and Wind Blossom quickly spoke up in a calm tone.

"Shush, Losk. Sorka's a friend to be welcomed."

Although the animal instantly settled, Wind Blossom interrupted her preparations in order to usher the ugly creature out through a second door.

"She looks to be growing... well," Sorka said politely. Though the truth was, Sorka wasn't sure if the creature was conforming to Wind Blossom's expectations or not. "Do you need a hand with the tea?"

The petite scientist shook her head gently.
"I may not follow all my grandmother's habits, but this one I do. Please, do sit down. Are the dragons well after the morning's threadfall?"

Sorka wasn't going to wait to be told a third time, and sat down in the nearest chair. While Wind Blossom finished her preparations, Sorka filled her in on all the details: Sean's new tactics for fighting thread in inclement conditions, the continually improving stamina of the dragons, and Porth's lucky escape. The other queen had jumped between to safety with only a minor score, after a cross wind had carried them straight into the clump of thread Tarrie'd been searing.

Wind Blossom gave Sorka a steady look as she poured out two cups of tea.
"You are here to discuss the program then. You'd be taking fewer risks and suffering fewer injuries if there were more dragons, yes?"

Sorka took a sip of the warm tea - a herbal infusion rather than the true tea of the old world. It wasn't half as nice as Klah, but she doubted Wind Blossom would make the change any time soon.

"You're right, this isn't simply a social call. I know we've discussed the dragons' fertility in the past, and you've always said it'd be between two and four years before our golds would rise, most likely somewhere in between. Is there any way of making a more precise prediction, now that they're older? Do you have any idea what signs we should look out for, to know that they're coming into season?"

"Well, we learned a lot from the aborts. They may not have hatched, but the females seemed to have functional ovaries. There's no reason to expect yours to be any different, though we can't be certain until we have more evidence one way or another. Other than that, there's no reason to suspect they'll act any different to the dragonets in that respect."
Wind Blossom reached over to the table to leaf through some papers.
"Ah yes," she said, finding the document she was after. "The different groups of eggs were engendered close enough as to make no difference, so the main factor will be the natural maturity of the dragon in question. Just like the dragonets, they mature at slightly different rates, especially with the added complication of human companions. Some may be mature enough to rise now, while others may still have another six months or more to wait."

Well, that was scarcely anything new. Sorka expected that the riders who'd gone south to watch dragonets had picked up more clues than she had.

"Of course, if you are worried about their fertility," Wind Blossom continued, "we could tell for sure with a simple biopsy. Perhaps even generate a new clutch in vitro, rather than in vivo. If you were to allow me to test one of the queens directly..."

The visible outrage on Sorka's face was enough to stop Wind Blossom in her tracks. She might as well have suggested invasive surgical procedures on Sorka herself! But, it could work, might be a solution if the queens failed to rise.

"Perhaps if nothing's changed a year from now," Sorka conceded, taking another sip of her tea. Diplomacy never hurt, and she still had more questions. "There's another matter, as well. Kitti's insistence on sex-linked Impression. I know she was a traditionalist, but with her skills she'd hardly need to be that chauvinistic, except by choice. Rendering the females flameless was one thing, and I can understand why she wished to protect the breeders from the hazards of fall, even if I don't agree with it myself. But I hardly need that same protection myself, nor any other female rider - even when bearing!" Sorka was certainly doing her duty by the growing Pernese population, and would continue to do so as long as she could. "So why did the golds need to Impress women? What did Kitti know, or suspect, that we don't?"

"Ah."
Wind Blossom sat back in her chair, and seemed to look anywhere other than Sorka. So, she suspected something at least!

"Go on. Please. " Sorka was finding it hard to keep a tone of annoyance out of her voice. The tradition of secrecy seemed to be another habit that Wind Blossom was maintaining in memory of her grandmother.

"The program has two aims, you know that. A defence against thread, but one that will be viable and self-sustaining through the centuries." Seeing Sorka listening attentively, Wind Blossom tucked her long hair behind her ears and continued with more confidence. "In order for the dragons to be an effective fighting force, it was absolutely necessary that they have a strong link with humans. To fight in the best interests of humanity, and to go on despite terrible injuries."

"Well, we've escaped those so far."

"You've been lucky so far, for which we're all grateful. But fighting thread's only a part of it."

"The other part being mating?"

Wind Blossom dipped her head in agreement.
"Indeed. The species must be able to propagate itself, and adjust to the needs of the population. To rise to mate when it's safe, and when the dragon is healthy. To breed strong and true when the red star waxes in the east, to re-populate after hard falls, but not to over-populate when we eventually reach the end of threadfall forty years or so down the line. And to continue the cycle the next time the Red Star passes Pern by. We've already discussed the ideal mating scenario several times in the past: mating different pairs of dragons on subsequent flights, for the sake of the gene pool. But, you've seen how the dragonets behave. They mate with whom they will, and share their experience with their human companions. A strong link is crucial for control, so that you, the riders can influence your dragon's activity. You'll be in control... I'm convinced of that... but that doesn't mean that you won't feel what your dragon's feeling, or want to act on those impulses. Bay's data from her study of the dragonets suggests that much."

"So, it's likely to be more intense than with the dragonets?," Sorka asked.

The geneticist shrugged.
"It's irrelevant, really. If all you're interested in is how much you'll enjoy your dragon's maturity, go and speak to Bay. It's hardly science."

Wind Blossom scowled, and Sorka found herself pondering the difference between the two women: the plump, happily married biologist with a passion for the little dragonets, and the sober, workaholic Wind Blossom. As far as she knew, while Wind Blossom seemed to enjoy the company of her ugly photophobes, she'd never sought out a dragonet egg, preferring the intricacies of their cells to the creatures themselves. Perhaps she should speak to Bay as well, and get a second opinion on how much 'control' the riders might actually have when their dragons eventually rose to mate. But Wind Blossom still had more to say.

"Those facts alone shouldn't make a difference Without the sex match, Kitti projected that the empathic link simply wouldn't fit your dragon's needs, and the rider could lose control over their dragon. Impression might even slip - we just don't know. But everything she did was in the best interests of the species," Wind Blossom finished defensively.

Impression might slip? An involuntary shiver ran down Sorka's spine at the thought of losing Faranth. It couldn't happen. Could it?

"But that won't happen to us, surely!"

"Of course not. Not with Impression going male-to-male, and female-to-female, the way Kitti envisioned." Wind Blossom glanced at the other door, through which her light-sensitive creature had left, and sighed. "Your dragons needed to Impress to you, but when I tried making the criteria less exact, they didn't fully Impress at all. So you see, the link between rider and dragon cannot, must not be sundered in mating, nor can it be lessened to accommodate human sensibilities."

"I doubt that'll appease Alianne and Catherine," Sorka said, setting her finished teacup down on the table, "but I don't think anyone'll be surprised. Thank you, Wind Blossom. You've certainly given us a slightly better idea of what to expect when it does happen, if not a way to predict when the golds will eventually rise." Sorka hoped she didn't sound too disillusioned with the meeting.

"If I'd known you were so concerned, Sorka, I'd have spoken to you about this before," Wind Blossom said, finally showing some compassion. "I'm sure you'll each have enough control over your dragons as you need, whatever Bay thinks."

Now that wasn't exactly reassuring! If there was any doubt over the amount of control the riders would have, well, she'd be damned if any dragon other than Carenath was the first dragon to fly Faranth! She could consider alternatives once the riders knew more of what they were facing. With more new questions than she'd had when she arrived, and no real hope of answers, Sorka thanked Wind Blossom again, made her excuses and left in search of Sean. Maybe he was right, and just treating the dragons like horses would be the best way forward. Their riders may not know what to look for, but perhaps the male dragons themselves would know. Sorka almost wished that she'd been one of the riders who'd gone to spend the afternoon on the hot, pleasant beaches of the south. Even if they didn't learn much there, warm sunshine was a much more appealing prospect than weak tea and Wind Blossom's sour company.

[Kath]

Episode 3: On the beach...
==========================


Duck!

Forwarned by both his dragon and the dark shadow passing overhead, Peter Semling dived back beneath the surface of the warm southern ocean just in time. Eyes closed against the salty water, he nevertheless felt and heard the disturbance of Shih Lao's messy dive. He cracked open an eye to see what was going on. The other man was lucky not to be winded, but was swimming ably enough a meter or so below and seemed in no hurry to head back to the surface. So, he thought he could creep up on him, did he? Pete pulled his drenched head back out into the air, and resumed treading water while waiting for Shih Lao to resurface. Okay, so his head was just as wet this way, but at least he'd had his dunking on his own te...


The second arrival caught him completely off guard.


Firth, while not the largest of the brown dragons, still made a considerable splash, and Pete found himself unceremoniously swept aside and gasping for air. Gilgath, why didn't you warn me about him?, he asked his dragon, muttering expletives under his breath as soon as he had some to spare. The smothered mirth that came back through the link from his partner was answer enough. Yes, the prim bronze dragon sitting smugly on the shoreline, his very own Gilgath, was indeed giggling at him.

Firth dives very neatly, don't you think?

Pete shook his head, and splashed some water at the bathing brown, who simply ignored him and rolled over to float on his back, eyes whirling blue-green in pleasure. Shih Lao resurfaced beside his dragon's head, conveniently timed to miss Pete's insignificant revenge, and reached up to stroke his dragon's headknobs.

You may be out of range, oh dragon-mine, but don't think I'll forget!

But you won't enjoy splashing me if I forget why. Which I will!

In the few short turns since their dragons had hatched, the riders had often wondered if the dragons appreciated all they were missing with their limited memories. Once the pains of threadscore had become clear, the main advantage became obvious, but that didn't stop the dragons finding new reasons to be cheerful with their lot. Oh, they were well aware of their inability to remember specific events in their past, but any need for long-term recall was supplied by the human partner. Sometimes, though, Pete thought that Gilgath could remember more than he claimed. A bit like his grandfather back on First Centauri, who could hear well enough when it suited him (in other words, whenever a glass of booze was on offer) but was stone-deaf otherwise.

Eh?

Ha-bloody-ha, you great big joke of a dragon. Pete's sister, a great believer in "karma", had always warned that one day he'd be stuck with someone with the same sense of humour. After impressing Gilgath, the inevitable had rapidly come to pass. Now, it seemed he was teaching Firth the same tricks. Realising he was fighting a losing battle, Pete gave up and swam over to Shih Lao, almost certainly an easier target. Dark hair sticking out in all directions, Shih Lao broke into a broad grin as he saw Pete approach.

"We really got you that time, didn't we."

Pete didn't reply; he simply reached over and good-naturedly shoved the smaller man's head back under.

"Hey!" Shih Lao said, spluttering. "I've already seen the reef-life, thanks."

In between wandering the shoreline in search of firelizards, all the riders had spent a lot of time in the water. Not just to cool off: after several years of regular threadfalls with only the resident fairs of firelizards for protection, large swathes of the surrounding land were barren, ugly and lifeless. The tarry remains of failed thread lay juxtaposed with wide regions of bare dirt, each burrow bordered by a perimeter of doomed, dying vegetation. Scorched bushes and the rare undamaged patches of greenery were very much in the minority, and overflying the shoreline in search of the beaches Pete remembered had been a depressing task, made even more difficult by the changed environment. Going straight between had been ruled out right from the start. On the other hand, the coastal waters were thriving, a veritable haven of life amidst the destruction of thread. With so few dragons to stave off humanity's decline, perhaps Kitti Ping would have been better advised to 'geneer gills into the population, like the people living in the aquatic worlds of the Orphiuchus sector? It was hard not to doubt the ability of the dragons and riders to keep the menace at bay, not when the price of failure was so clear. But after spending most of the day enjoying the best that the surviving wildlife of Pern had to offer, spirits were beginning to rise again.

"Yeah, but you don't mind another look." Pete settled back, and tried to float. "Wow, but we needed this holiday."

"Sure did," Shih Lao agreed. "I think this is the first time I've been properly warm in weeks. Those storms Fort's been having won't get any better before midwinter now." He turned round in the water to look back at the other riders left on the beach. "Shame Tarrie couldn't get away, what with Porth scored and all, but I reckon Alianne needed it just as bad."

Pete winced, remembering the argument they'd all pretended not to overhear. Alianne had been having some kind of problems with her partner, and had apparently missed a prior engagement while supervising the post-fall clean-up. That was meant to be Tarrie's job, but injuries in fall were never predictable. No one was willing to miss another burrow this month, so everyone was taking extra time, and care, with their tasks. When she and Chereth eventually returned back to their barracks, things had rapidly spiralled out of control. Strangely, Tarie had seemed more composed than she had been all week - perhaps Porth's scoring had shocked her out of her stress, as she'd seemed much calmer waving the others off.

"Seems to be doing her some good though," Pete agreed. Both Alianne and Chereth were currently dozing in the shade beneath one of the surviving stands of trees.

"Peace and quiet all round - who could ask for more!"

"Yeah, you only say that because you didn't hear what the other girls were gossiping about earlier."

Pete shook his head, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Race you to the shore?"

[Kath]

Episode 4
========
Pete hauled himself out of the water and onto his feet, feeling the motion of the waves dig burrows in the scratchy sand around his toes. Shih Lao was still about half a minute behind, but he didn't feel like waiting, not when there was news to be had - he'd been half-way back to the shore when he saw Dave Caterel and Polenth glide back to land. They'd located many fairs of fire lizards over the course of the day, but that was hardly unexpected, and not precisely what they'd been looking for. Fortunately, several of them had had gold flights in progress. They'd come across the first a few miles west of where they'd first arrived on the coastline; Nyassa's sharp eyes picking out the tell-tale flashes of sunlight on tiny gold, bronze, brown and blue hides above the denuded landscape. But there was nothing new to be learned there, not compared with everything the colonists already knew about their own small companions.

The second gold flight had been much more promising. Of course, the riders wouldn't have known to concentrate their attention on that particular fair had it not been for the presence of Dave Caterel's bronze lizard, Kundi. He'd instantly realised that the cluster of firelizards perched
by a rock pool were doing more than just playing or hunting, and had raced off to join the preening gold's adoring suitors. The dragons had spiralled carefully down to the ground on the far side of the small cove, where the riders could watch the proceedings without causing a disturbance. They'd only had three pairs of binoculars to share between them, but that was enough to watch how things began.

The queen was shining bright gold in the sunlight amidst a crows of heavier males, green-tinged bronzes and duller, deeper hued browns. Nyassa reckoned that the gold's colour was brighter than the norm, and the binoculars switched hands in rapid succession as the others took their turn. As far as Pete could tell, it was just the lighting and Nyassa's imagination, but they all agreed that the lizards' eyes were whirling with the expected reddish colour. A bold, solitary blue lurked on the edge of the crowd, with a few more clustered further out. The other blues and greens of the fair were flitting around as if it were some kind of carnival. The remains of fish, and other lifeforms which thrived in Pernese tidepools, were scattered around the fire lizards. A few lizards were displaced by Kundi's arrival, allowing the riders to spot one bronze offering the gold a flopping, fresh fish, which she swiftly dispatched. Not long after that, the gold sprang aloft, her suitors in swift pursuit.

With Dave's bronze fire lizard taking part in the chase, the other riders had left the tall man behind to "monitor" the progress of that flight, and continued up the shore line... but not without a few teasing comments first!

By the time Pete reached the group, Dave was helping himself to the remains of the riders' lunch and Polenth had ambled downwind to dig himself a sandy hollow. Dave's firelizard, Kundi, was nowhere in sight.

"So, no sign of..." Alianne was saying, looking rather disgruntled at having been woken up.

"Yeah, yeah," Dave interrupted with a grin. "Kundi got lucky. I see the rest of you layabouts have made good use of your time," he continued.

Alianne opened her mouth, no doubt to say something cutting in reply. Not wanting to see things spark off yet again, Pete quickly sat down between them.

"Any more water in that flask, Dave?" he asked.

"Oh yes!" Kathy added from the other side of the group. "I'm almost starting to miss the morning's drizzle."

Alianne smiled, and laughed softly. "Miss that? You're mad woman, quite mad!"

Pete took a gulp of water from Dave's flask, and passed it round the circle. "So. We'll understand if you don't want to fill us in on all the gory details, but... anything to add to what we've figured out so far?"

Dave smirked, and shook his head. "If you're expecting me to add anything to the colour argument, forget it. Gold is gold, and I wasn't waiting round all afternoon to see what colour a post-coital lizard goes."

"I still say she was shining," Nyassa said, stirring the sand beside her.

"Reflecting," Pete countered.

Alianne rolled her eyes. "Honestly, everyone knows you can't expect a man to tell one colour from another. You can't tell the difference between two shades of pink, let alone gold."

"Really?" Shio Lao asked, joining the group at a jog. He brushed the wet sand off his feet, and sat down beside Pete. "Well, magenta's the colour Dave's face went earlier, but puce is the colour he goes when he gets angry... see?"

Kathy smothered a laugh, more successfully than Dave himself. "You know, I think he's right!"

Dave shrugged. "If you say so! Anyway, I took some time to inspect the rock-pool, and what was left of the "gifts"... which wasn't much. A few greens came along to scavenge almost as soon as the rest were airborne."

"Oh, so they really weren't interested in the same thing as the rest of them?" Kathy asked.

"Well, that's debatable. They were hanging around the promontory during the flight; some of them even decided to keep Polenth company for a while. But once the unsuccessful suitors started returning, a few of them made the most of the opportunity."

"Well, the greens don't seem too bothered by other greens getting lusty." Alianne said, intent on proving that she hadn't wasted any time herself. "We did see plenty of those later this morning, but then, greens are pretty much everywhere round here. They didn't spend so much time flirting first; they just darted off with a handful of males in tow. "

"So, the males still knew what was going to happen?" Dave asked.

"Oh yes," Alianne agreed, "but that's really all we can add, I'm afraid."

Dave pulled a redfruit out of the bag of food. "Well, hopefully that'll be enough. Maybe Sorka'll have got something useful out of Wind Blossom. And hey," he took a bite out of the fruit. "At least we'll be heading home with some fresh supplies."

"We should probably get going with the foraging pretty soon," Kathy suggested. "I reckon the fruit trees round Paradise Hold will be a good place to try - the dragonets might still be in the habit of protecting that area as well as their own nesting grounds. Who's with me?"

"Milath and I", Nyassa answered straight away..

Alianne shifted onto her back, and folded her arms beneath her head. "I'd go, but I think both Chereth and I would prefer sticking round here a while."

Gilgath? Fancy a trip to Paradise?

The lanky bronze lifted his head from the sand, had a quick look round, and then settled back down again. I'd rather stay here too.

The others all opted to stay on the beach, not that they'd be lazing about much longer. There was hunting to be done too, and Paul knew where some surviving herds could still be found nearby. Soon enough, the two women and their gold dragons had winked between, and Paul, Otto and Pete were preparing for the hunt. Dave and Polenth would be staying behind, and relaying their news back to Sorka at Fort.

Straps in place, Pete hauled himself up between Gilgath's neck ridges, and waited for Paul to relay the coordinates to his dragon.

Alianne lifted one dark hand to shield her eyes, and used the other to push herself to a sitting position. "Well, you boys have fun hunting!" she called out, giving them a wave. "I'm going to work on my tan," she finished sardonically.

Pete grinned and quickly waved back, before giving a reluctant Gilgath the signal to follow Shoth into the sky.

"You lazy thing," he muttered to his dragon. "We'll be back soon enough."

Yes. We will.

[Kath]

Episode 5: On the mend
======================

Tarrie? Tarrie! I itch...

Tarrie could almost feel her own arms itching in sympathy with her dragon's discomfort. From past experience, she knew that the fairly mild sensations currently felt by her dragon were only the beginning, and as increased feeling returned to the scored areas, itching would soon be replaced by sharper pins and needles, and a dull ache that would steadily intensify into white-hot pain. That was threadscore. The thought of it still gave her nightmares at times.

Porth dearest, I know, and I'll be with you soon with more numbweed, Tarrie answered in haste as she made her way over to the ground-level infirmary weyr. She'd hoped Porth would sleep a little longer than she had. The full bucket of fresh salve knocked against Tarrie's leg with each step, but she was in too much of a rush to go to any extra effort with the awkward load, simply to spare herself a few bruises. Porth's needs were paramount, after all. At least she'd not needed to wrestle the damn bucket up the steep stairs to their normal weyr, not on a windy day like this. For about the fifth time that afternoon, Tarrie imagined the balmy warmth of a southern beach, even as another cold gust of wind found its way under her coat. Still, it kept the pungent aroma of the numbweed at
bay.

Yesterday had been much worse. Tarrie may have trained as a meteorologist, but it didn't take much to know that changeable strong winds meant trouble when it came to Threadfall. It wouldn't have been so bad if it had been winter time, with the air cold enough to freeze thread into harmless black dust... or if they'd been blessed with the humidity of the previous week. Unimpeded by the weather, the voracious Threads had fallen in the most unpredictable of patterns. Tangles and clumps were bad enough, but when they shifted direction as if driven by some malign intelligence, when the easiest sheets became torn apart by crosswinds... that made a fall very nasty indeed. Add to that the sheer impossibility of flying in a straight line under those conditions, and you had a recipe for disaster.

And yet, the three wings had made it through more-or-less unscathed, until nearly the very end of the fall. It helped that they didn't need to fly all five hours; just over the acreage that was planted up or grazed by livestock. Even so, the exhaustion of the dragons was telling. The little dragonets were a help, but what they really needed was greater numbers of dragons. Tarrie was sure that even Sean was longing to have some nimble green and blue dragons in his wing, to dart hither and thither picking up the awkward clumps that the larger dragons had most trouble manoeuvring round. But that was still years off, even if the dragons started breeding that minute! It couldn't happen too soon though, that was certain.

Porth picked her head up off her folded forelegs as Tarrie arrived, eyes whirling in a muted mixture of blue and red.
When will it stop hurting, Tarrie?

"Very soon, dear. Soon."

Tarrie dropped the bucket beside her dragon, and pulled the sterilised mop from under her arm.

"Left wing first?" she asked softly, as she immersed it in the numbweed. Porth rapidly obliged, dipping her wing low enough for Tarrie to lift off the old dressings and slather the healing salve over the scored region.

Porth had been scored by practically the last threads to fall over fertile ground, right at the end of their threadfighting. The uppermost wing of dragons had already broken off, and was backtracking along the path of the fall in search of burrows, leaving the remaining threads to fall onto the barren unfarmed landscape where they could do no further damage. "Firebreaks" up to half a click wide were maintained in the lowlands, to prevent burrowing thread crossing from the wastelands into Pern's few fields. But rocky ridgelines made a more practical natural defense, wherever the Pernese geology gave a helping hand. Of course, on a blustery day, there was no guarantee which side of the ridge a clump of thread would actually fall on.

Fortunately, Porth's sharp eyes had seen the falling clump just in time. Although the time spent threadfighting together was best counted in months rather than years, both dragon and rider understood what needed to be done in order to prevent the loss of yet another field. Porth began banking sharply even as Tarrie prepared the visual to send them between. They didn't have enough room, or time, to char the thread in the usual manner: the rider's flamethrower spewing out- and downwards as the dragon safely descended down the length of the thread. Nor was there enough time to alert one of the male pairs, who were more versatile with their flaming. Instead, Tarrie and Porth exited between with Porth's wings close to vertical, taking them in a tight spiral around the descending tangle of thread barely a dragonlength above the ground.

Flamethrower angled upwards, Tarrie seared the thread as it fell beside them, scarcely a wingspan away. It was a manoeuvre that would have worked perfectly under normal conditions, but both knew it could all go horribly wrong in an instant. Most of the tangle had been destroyed only a few seconds after exiting between, but what was left could still do considerable damage. It was at that point that the sidewind caught them, filling Porth's wings like sails and driving the pair through their own flames into the hot char and the remaining meters of falling thread. Expecting something of the sort, Tarrie had been able to give Porth a visual of the weyr bowl the instant they were blown off course, quickly enough to send them between the moment the thread struck. That's one way to stop it reaching the ground, Tarrie had found herself thinking as the icy cold of between froze the last vestige of thread off Porth's wings. And then they'd been out above the weyr, safe, Porth's agony sending every other thought out of her head. She'd not even noticed her own burns until later, once Porth had slipped into sleep and Tarrie was finally able to tell which pains were her own.


Adding a final coat of numbweed salve "for luck", Tarrie surveyed the damage. The score, although lengthy, had been pretty shallow and was already looking much better. Dragons didn't have too many nerve endings in their wings anyway, but Porth had more than enough on the rest of her body. Still, Sean said dragons were just like Earth-mammals when it came to injuries like burns and threadscore; a lot of pain was a good sign that the damage didn't go too deep.

"She's healing up well then?" came a familiar voice from the entrance to the weyr.

He's been watching, Porth added, amused. But Carenath says his rider doesn't want to numb his hands today...

Tarrie slid down from her perch on Porth's near hind leg, and walked round to greet Sean. Oops. Gloves probably would have been a good idea. But with Porth calm, and healing, it really didn't seem to matter all that much.

"I could have done with your height ten minutes ago!" Tarrie said with a chuckle. "But yes, she seems to be doing well - aren't you, love?"

Porth rumbled, eyes whirling a contented greeny-blue. Why wouldn't I be?

"I don't need Carenath to translate that look," Sean answered, grinning. "Dragon memories. Give her a day or so, and she'll forget she even got scored." He walked closer towards Porth, and gave her a quick rub behind her headknobs. "Aside from the scoring, she seems in good health. Mind if I take a closer look at her wings?"

Tarrie stepped aside, and watched as he checked Porth over from torso to wingtip, above and below.

"Circulation's good," he commented as he felt the underside of each fingerjoint. "As we thought, the scarring should be minimal, and won't impede her flight once she'd fully healed."

"Good."

"And next time, send a brown in for those kind of stunts!"

Carenath says we're not expendable, Porth relayed.

Nor are browns.

Browns don't clutch. I will. When I'm ready.

Tarrie bit her lip, and glanced at Sean. "Did you catch any of that from Carenath?"

"Some of it. Clutching, right?" He lost focus for a moment, and turned towards wherever his bronze dragon must have been. "Not sure if it was her idea, or his. Carenath's being... elusive on the subject."

"They're probably just picking it up from us, aren't they?" Tarrie asked.

Sean opened his mouth to speak, paused, and looked back at Porth. "Maybe. Sorka's on her way over, along with the other riders still around."

"Ahhh. So, she got something useful out of Wind Blossom then, aside from the usual platitudes and cups of tea?"

"That, and the news from the south. Not that there's much from what Carenath tells me, but best we all hear it together, wouldn't you say?"

Tarrie sat down, and leaned back against Porth for support. "So long as we get some answers, I'll be happy."

[Kath]

Epsiode 6: The hunt begins
==========================

The powerful wing beats of the three dragons carried them rapidly aloft, and aided by Pern's ever-present prevailing winds they quickly gained altitude. As Gilgath levelled out, Pete stretched, and made the most of the welcome respite from the heat of the more sheltered beach. Ahead, a klick or so to the south of them, Pete could make out a glistening patch of blue-green; a marked contrast to the thread-abused landscape, and, he supposed, the destination Paul had in mind.

Sure enough, moments later Gilgath relayed a message from the other man via his dragon.

Islorth's rider says we are to follow, but not land until we see how many beasts survive.

I wouldn't have thought anything could survive down here... but I guess if things are still growing, they can, Pete mused to his dragon. Threadfall devasted anything it touched, but it was only the rarer Threads that successfully burrowed that would leach every nutrient out of the soil, before eventually dying themselves. This early in a pass, the land still maintained some of its fertility, but it wouldn't last. Still, as things were now, in the absence of burrows the roots, seeds and pollen of Pern's plantlife would remain untouched, ready for regrowth in the springtime, or whenever favourable weather allowed. Many undefeated plants were taking advantage of the changing southern season to do just that, and patchy swathes of fresh growth, most of it doomed to die in the next threadfall, were dotted across the barren ground beneath. After who-knows how many millenia of passes, the Pernese flora had evolved to favour rapid growth spurts, hardy weeds, and fine puffballs of microscopic seeds that could probably survive dormant long enough to outlast even a full Pass unharmed.

Marsh grasses, lillies and oxygenating water-weeds were another success story, providing food and habitats for animals and insects alike. So, Pete was not in the least bit surprised when it became apparent that they were heading for a small patch of fenland, or flood-plain, or something... He wasn't quite sure; geography had never been his favourite subject as a child.

As they got closer, Pete leaned forwards to peer around Gilgath's bronze neck in search of their quarry. The landscape looked like a good spot for the herd that Paul claimed lived nearby. Some past event had lifted the land to the south east, creating a fairly sizeable cliff. Parts of it had collapsed, and there were large sections that were heavily undercut by a river, meandering its way across the land towards the sea. Natural shelter from Threadfall? Pete wondered. Water, safe grazing, shelter... even a dumb cow ought to recognise this place as a perfect refuge. Further east, the cliff was broken by the entrance of yet another waterway, which flowed out of its gorge to connect up with the main river. But no cows. Not one.

I see one animal, Gilgath supplied.

Where?

To your right; Shoth investigates!

Pete turned in time to see the second brown break away from their formation, and swoop silenty down towards a solitary animal drinking water from further upstream.

"He's gonna spook it," Pete mumbled to himself, seeing Shoth's broad shadow racing across the ground in advance of the dragon himself. Sure enough, the animal lifted its head with a squeal and, with a great deal of splashing, charged away as fast as it could.

Shoth says they weren't really hunting, Gilgath commented, barely supressing his amusement. And Islorth reminds us that we might not want to kill them here. We are to land; he shows me where.

The three dragons circled down to land on a raised patch of dry ground between the cliff face and the river, allowing their riders to dismount easily. This close, Pete could see several small holes high up the cliff. Curious at the new arrivals, a small green head briefly poked out of one of them; weyrs for firelizards, Pete realised. Yet another source of protection for any large animals still around. Firelizards would feed on the freshwater fish and insects that lived here, and would guard their feeding grounds during Threadfall.

"So, where's this herd got to then?" Pete wondered aloud, as he leapt from Gilgath's shoulder to the ground.

Paul shook his head, with a wry smile. "Don't worry, they're around."

A sudden outburst of swearing from Otto proved his point.

"Yeah, I'd say they were round here this morning," he muttered angrily, lifting a boot to inspect the sole, before wiping it hurridly on the grass. "Phwoar, that's fresh."

Pete exchanged a grin with Paul. "Rather him than me!"

"Told you so! They've adapted pretty well to the local river grasses and algae, as well as the normal grass," Paul said, gesturing at the green fronds swaying about in the river.

"What's that?" Pete asked, spotted a mostly submerged brown shape further downstream.

"Looks like what's left of a cow," Otto added, shading his eyes as he squinted into the bright sunlight. "I've already got as close as I like to smelly messes today; one of you can take a closer look."

Pete started towards it. "I reckon I can keep my boots clean, at least!" He squelched across the marshier ground to the shoreline, and cautiously approached what was left of the animal. Sure enough, there was a small splash as a scavenging tunnelsnake made its escape - not all varieties were that cowardly. There were score marks all across what was left of the beast's head and back; some old and healed, others fresh. Probably, it had been injured in the last Threadfall: the killing Threads drowning in the river after fatally wounding the animal.

"Slim pickings here," he said, peering down at the corpse and shaking his head. It looked like the local fire lizards had had a free meal, as well as the snakes.

"There's another spot, up the gorge over there, where the herds are bound to be," Paul said pointing at the break in the cliff. "The steep slopes offer good protection in Fall, and there are a few caves as well. But if none of you object, Islorth's feeling a few hunger pangs - might as well not waste what's here."

"Shoth's got no objections."

Gilgath?

Bit scrawny for my tastes

"Nor Gilgath." Pete ambled back to the other riders, and watched as Islorth launched himself into the air in pursuit of the original cow, now contentedly grazing several hundred metres away and keeping a watchfull eye on the dragons.

Otto twisted his bootheel into the patchy grass, in a vain effort to remove the last of the cowshit. "Hey... how come this grass is still here? Even with the firelizards, it's way too dry to survive Fall."

"Aha!" Paul said, tapping his nose as if he were about to reveal an important secrect. . "Well, you remember the Tubberman grubs?"

"The grubs that failed in every field they were seeded in?" They'd seemed like such a promising solution, Pete mused. But months of trial and error had resulted only in failure. Grubs had been seeded into both scored and living fields, at many different times of year. But either they didn't like the cold, or their efficacy had been tested in Fall too early... whatever the reason, the only result had been more dead land.

"Hey, it's not like my father had any say in where they were used," Paul protested. "Bad enough that the original lab work got destroyed, and that Wind Blossom refused to work on them, wasting her time on those no-good, ugly, walking bellies," he continued, pulling a disgusted face.

In the distance, Islorth swooped down on the hapless bovine, killing it swiftly.

"Oh, nice catch," Otto commented.

Paul grinned. "Anyway, my father... ahem... acquired a few cocoons last year."

"So that's where you went on your secret spring break!" Otto gasped. "You were raiding the source, weren't you?"

Pete crouched down to pull up a tussock of grass. And there, wriggling between the roots, were the weird little grubs, silently working their Thread-defying magic.

"Yeah, the grubs were doing okay back on the old Tubberman stake, and we took as much as we dared," Paul went on. "It'd take years to gather enough cocoons to protect a single field, even if the grubs on the Tubberman stake could produce them quick enough. We knew this land, marginal as it was, still gave the animals a chance. So, we tried seeding it, in different places, different times. Some of them took, others didn't. And the protection is pretty scant so far," Paul gestured at the patchy grass, "even if there aren't half as many signs of burrows as there should be. Simple truth is, we just don't know how they even do what they do, let alone how to encourage them to do it. But when I think how many were wasted on scored and burrowed fields though..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Still. It's enough that this herd survived."

"Until Islorth came along, anyway!" Pete said, smiling. Thinking back to the events of the morning, he changed subjects. "So, how much of the firelizards' mating rituals do you think'll translate to these big guys?" he asked, curious to hear the opinion of the other riders.

"Who the heck knows!" Pete said. "If we knew why they did what they did, maybe... Take the food offering Dave said he saw earlier. I'm sure I've never seen that before, not in any of the flights our family's lizards had. Doesn't mean it doesn't serve a purpose though... but whether it's simply picquing the queen's interest, or extra calories for a strenuous flight, or they just happened to be real hungry first... Aargh! Ask Sorka, Sean, maybe Bay - what else do we have experts for?"

"So, what you're saying is that it could just be flirting?" Otto wondered.

"I hope so! I mean, what's the alternative? Plucking a couple of sugar-coated Wherries out of between?"

We don't like sugar, echoed into three separate minds.

"No, but if you want a plump, juicy bullock of your own, we'd better get back to work," Pete said, dumping his handful of grub-infested soil back on the ground, and wiping his hands clean on his trousers.

"Now there's a sight to put me off my food," Paul muttered as a rather gory Islorth ambled back up to the group, having finished his meal. "You two head down that gorge then, while I try and make this brown lummox presentable. We'll be waiting out here, ready to channel them downstream to the coast."

Otto glanced at the break in the bluff, and tilted his head in thought. "Shall we drive out the whole herd?"

"About a dozen animals is what we need, I reckon, and an idea of how many are left behind. There should be more, but don't worry if you can't break the group up - I don't want us facing down a stampede out here!"

Pete grinned. "I think we can just about manage".

Time to hunt again? Gilgath queried, and lowered himself to allow Pete to mount. The blond rider gave Gilgath a light slap on the shoulder, and hauled himself up into place between the dragon's neck ridges.

The two dragons, brown and bronze, took to the skies once more, heading for Paul's gorge. After that, locating the herd was easy; perhaps thirty animals or more huddled in a group. Most bore signs of old and new scores, but aside from that, they looked in good health.

So Gilgath... any ideas on how to act like a sheepdog?

Eyes whirling orange with excitement, the dragon gave a mental laugh.

Ideas? I can manage these creatures far better than any animal can!

Gilgath elegantly tilted a wingtip, and set about proving his point.

[Kath]

A few quick notes before you carry on reading this chapter. Yes, this is one you've been waiting for, long and patiently.

Firstly, it's been edited for language.
Secondly, I'm sure you all know what sort of content is coming up. I've tried to keep certain things subtle, and it's certainly no more graphical than anything Anne has written on Pern. If I've done my job right, if you're mature enough, your mind will fill in the gaps, and if you're not, hopefully you won't notice the difference. But I thought a brief warning was in order.

Anyway, on with the show. Enjoy!



Episode 7: Mayhem!
================


"So," Pete began with a wry smile, keeping a close eye on the bellowing cluster of fearful cows as they huddled between the three dragons and the sea. "Which of us was in charge of remembering to bring the butcher's kit?"

Otto gave Pete a concerned glance, while Paul simply crumpled to the soft white sand with a groan.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit! I knew there was something else I was meant to bring along..."

"Shall I see if the others have anything?" Otto asked, glancing towards the other dragons and riders at the far side of the bay. Firth and Chereth were both dozing in the warm sun, which seemed to catch every glint in the gold dragon's hide, while Polenth was stalking possessively around the group. Alianne and Shih Lao seemed to be chatting, but Dave himself was striding swiftly towards the hunters, with Kundi fluttering overhead.

"Somehow I don't think a bread knife will get us very far," Paul muttered bitterly, holding his head in his hands, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to think things through.

Yes, they certainly had a bit of a problem here. But while Paul was still softly cursing his own forgetful idiocy, the solution came to Pete in a flash. Gilgath, what do you reckon?

The bronze tilted his head and listened carefully to Pete's idea.

Well, I don't know why it took you so long to ask, he replied laconically. Of course we can manage the job! Gilgath rose up onto all fours, muscles rippling across his haunches as he stretched in readiness.

Buoyed by his dragon's eagerness, Pete slapped Paul cheerily on the shoulder. "Hang about, mate, I've got an idea!" Who needed knives, ropes, bruises and the risks of being side-kicked by a stupid cow... when you had the fangs and talons of a half dozen dragons to hand? He rapidly explained his idea to Otto and Paul, who were soon nodding in agreement, their dragons equally enthusiastic.

"Of course, we could do with taking a few live animals over for the weyr's breeding stock," Paul elaborated, "but we can always collect them later, from here or back at the gorge."

"Threadfall's here again in two days, but that gives us plenty of time," Dave said as he joined the group. "Don't worry; Polenth's filled me in on all the details. Damn, Paul, I can't believe you forgot the one piece of kit you were meant to bring!"

Paul stiffened, not entirely sure if Dave was joking until the other rider's face broke into a broad smirk. He sighed and shrugged, knowing better than to make an issue of it. "So, six dragons, two animals apiece... we may as well get the dragons to slaughter the lot after all."

Pete shook his head with a wistful smile. "It'll be mayhem."

"Probably," Dave agreed, suddenly more serious. "But teaching Gilgath a little more restraint might be a good idea right now," he snapped.

Pete's smile faded. This wasn't like Dave at all. "What's up?" he demanded.

"Sorry, that was uncalled for," Dave sighed. "I'm just a bit... tense, I guess. Perhaps it's best to let them get started, give them a distraction. It's nothing to worry about, but you lot really need to hear Sorka's news, and I don't want it colouring their instincts. Not until us humans have had a chance to think things through."

"Wind Blossom came up with the goods then?" Otto asked, unconcerned.

Ignoring the other brown rider, a worried-looking Paul dragged himself to his feet. "You'd better start explaining things. Fast."

Dave nodded. "Let's walk."

Knowing the strength of the bond between Gilgath and himself, Pete found himself rather unsurprised by Wind Blossom's theories about impression, and the likelihood that a mating dragon could lead to some pretty overwhelming urges. After all, it was pretty much what the group of riders had figured out for themselves. He glanced back to check on the progress of Gilgath's hunting. Not bad; the bronze had singled out a plump bullock and was homing in for the kill, while the other dragons kept the rest of the small herd under control. But then Dave started mentioning `dire consequences', bringing Pete's attention rapidly back into focus.

"What?!" the three men exclaimed in near-unison.

"We can't afford to shy away from staying in full contact, full control of our dragons. Wind Blossom thinks... well, you know what she's like, and I don't think her ideas hold any water when it comes to the permanence of impression." Dave stopped, realising that he was only adding to the other riders' confusion. "Look, Sorka spoke to Bay as well, and they agree on this point. What happens to any member of dragonkind, fire lizard, or dragon, when they panic?"

"They go between..." Pete said slowly, and whistled through pursed lips.

"Can they do that, without us?" Otto asked.

"Do you think Marco had any say in things when Duluth panicked?" Dave snapped, kicking at the sand in irritation. "Of course they can go between
without us; it's knowing where to come out again that's the problem."

"So we stay with them, stay in control like you said," Otto said. "Problem solved, ja?"

"If what Wind Blossom says is true, Bay doesn't think it'll be that easy," Dave answered. "Whatever happens, when and if it does happen, it'll be pretty intense, and could very well overwhelm whoever's involved. Bay was brutally honest with Sorka in that respect, and I'll trust her instincts over Wind Blossom's any
day."

Pete spent a few moments considering the mechanics of the problem, and try as he might, he couldn't see any other conclusions. "But... doesn't that mean..."

"I'm glad at least one of you appreciates the gravity of all this. If it's any consolation, Sorka says Sean insists we should understand that we're all in the same boat. But, we can't afford any harm to come to our dragons. "

"So what do we do?" Paul asked.

"It's not as if we have much choice, really," Dave said calmly, trying to reassure the other men. "Whatever Polenth truly needs, I'll do. I doubt you'd have much trouble in that respect," he added, throwing a significant look Otto's way.

Oho! Pete wondered. What gossip have I missed out on here?

"How was I to know you were interested in her too? Hey, you know I can't resist a pretty face."

"You might have to," Pete said cautiously. He was sure he was more considerate of his partners than Otto, if the other man's reputation was anything to go by, but whatever happened, consideration was probably something they'd all need plenty of in the times ahead. A sudden surge of elation reached him from Gilgath; he'd made his kill neatly, and was feeling quite proud of himself. Ahead, Shih Lao and Alianne seemed to be in the middle of a heated debate, and were oblivious of their approach. Pete found himself quite distracted by Alianne; she was certainly quite, no, very attractive when she got angry. Especially in that bikini. Oops. Pete coughed, and decided that now would be a good time to concentrate very hard on the wiring schematics of the Weyr's new lighting system.

"Yeah, it's one thing to put our dragons first, but it has to be a last resort... if that makes any sense at all," Paul said, breaking the tension with a laugh. "C'mon, it's not as if Catherine or Alianne, or any of the girls for that matter, are going to be too enthusiastic about... how can I put this? Just going with the flow."

Otto snickered. "Nyassa might be okay with it."

The others gave him a dirty look.

"Say that to her face, and she'll deck you," Dave murmured quietly.

"And if you think Sean will let you get away with having your wicked way with Sorka..." Paul continued.

Otto raised his hands in defence. "Well! That's obviously out of the question. I mean, we do have some say in which dragons chase which queen, don't we? Assuming that any of them eventually rise, that is."

"Do we?" Dave wondered.

Pete stopped, and let the others walk on ahead. Even though the afternoon was beginning to cool, he was starting to feel a bit hot under the collar. On top of that, Gilgath was feeling... weird.

What are you doing? he asked, turning back to watch his dragon, hunched over the beast he'd killed. Is it Thread?

We are to return the meat, and so I shan't eat any. But the blood. It tastes very good, and there's no need to waste it. And. I. Want. It.

Stunned into silence by Gilgath's wild insistence, Pete was startled when Dave laid a hand on his arm.

"Shaffit, you nearly had me jumping out of my skin!"

"What's he doing?"

Pete's mouth went dry. "I, uh. Um. He didn't want to waste the blood. I think."

"Polenth thinks that's a good idea, and he's going to give him a hand," Dave said, seeming equally distracted. "Otto and Paul are trying to calm things down between Shih and Alianne; I guess one of them managed to wind the other up while I was gone."

"Probably Shih. You know what he's like."

Polenth landed with a bellow, outstretched talons pinning a kicking heifer to the ground. The rest of the herd scattered, grunting and lowing, no longer caring whether they ran towards or away from the watching dragons.

"Mayhem, just as you predicted," Dave said with a sigh. The pair turned back towards the other riders, and Pete winced as the wind carried a fresh batch of expletives towards them. The argument seemed to have intensified, and Otto and Alianne were standing toe-to-toe, screeching at each other. `Loud enough to wake a sleeping dragon' seemed an appropriate description in Pete's mind. Shih Lao always swore Firth could sleep through anything, but he was being tested to the limits
right now. As for Chereth, well, her tail was twitching madly; she'd soon be awake.

"I see Paul and Otto didn't manage to calm things down then."

"What? Oh, sure," Pete agreed, entranced by Chereth's twitches. He didn't want to look back at Alianne again, perturbed by his earlier reaction. No, dammit, don't think of the woman, think of the nice, safe, boring wiring. "You know, I think Nyassa was right - that's not a normal shade of gold, is it?"

The other man gave him a slow, steady look. "I've been hoping it was just the sunlight, but if you see it too..."

"You too?" Pete queried.

Dave nodded. "It's Chereth," he hissed. Realising that something was about to start happening, he grabbed Pete's arm and started hauling him back towards the other riders at a jog.

As they ran, a frantic cow lumbered past the sleeping queen, mooing as loud as its lungs could manage. This was apparently the last straw, and the gold dragon finally woke with a shriek of annoyance, and rose up on her hind legs, wings flapping.

"Does she know?" Pete gasped as they approached the group. If the way he was feeling was anything to go by, they were about to find out how dragon mating worked first hand. Gilgath's steady anticipation only confirmed things further.

Chereth knows. I know. Polenth knows. Firth will no doubt know
when he finally wakes up.

Not Chereth, Alianne, you foolish dragon.

As Dave and Pete reached the others, the argument seemed to be reaching its peak.

"...well, I'm sure me and Shoth could... Ow!"

Whatever Otto was about to suggest was cut short by Alianne's slap. Pete couldn't help feeling that he'd probably deserved Alianne's reaction... and by storming off after Chereth, who was now hunting down the cow that had disturbed her rest, at least the shouting match had ended.

Shih Lao shrugged as Dave and Pete arrived. "I did try and cool things down, honest. Not that some people seemed to care," he finished, glaring at Otto.

Dave shook his head. "C'mon, let's go pick up the pieces while we still can."

They quickly caught up with Alianne, who hadn't gone very far at all. The short woman was standing rigidly, fists clenched, watching as Chereth tore hungrily into the belly of the unfortunate cow, scattering gore across the sands as she ate.

"Chereth?" she asked huskily, letting out a shuddering breath.

Pete glanced at Dave, hoping he'd know what to say. Even though they didn't lead a wing during Fall, Dave and Polenth had always been a pair that many of the other riders felt they could turn to at need. But the other man was silent, jaws fixed, just watching and waiting to see what would happen next.

"Oh, Chereth, don't do this to me!" Alianne demanded firmly, uncowed, as her dragon swallowed another bloody mouthful of meat. "You have to stop this. Listen to me, girl, you can't do this now."

Some part of Pete's mind registered the presence of a fourth dragon in the corner of his eye -- Shoth? The brown was tearing the entrails out of another animal as he eagerly gorged himself on the fresh meat, much as Chereth was doing ahead of them. Alianne seemed to be having no luck in her attempt to disrupt Chereth's heat, and things were spiralling rapidly out of control. It all seemed irrelevant though; Pete was finding himself increasingly enraptured by Chereth's behaviour, as she rapidly consumed what was left of the carcass. The perspective kept shifting awkwardly, dizzyingly, and he realised he was also watching the queen through Gilgath's impatient eyes.

Wind Blossom said we'd be in full control...

But Bay and Sorka thought otherwise!

Pete tried to pull back to his own perspective, holding himself both apart from and together with Gilgath. It seemed to work, until Chereth suddenly launched herself skywards, and every other dragon followed. Firth must have woken up too when no one was looking, Pete realised absently. Betrayed by his need to know what the hell was going on, he found himself slipping back into Gilgath's mind completely. The
lanky bronze was leading the pack of males chasing their queen. Nothing else seemed to matter any more, and the little voice saying No! Wait! was easily subdued. He was Gilgath: sleek, fast and powerful! He felt imbued with boundless energy, the warm blood firing his thirst rather than quenching it, and with each wingbeat he flew higher, higher and ever closer to his goal.

His brothers were clustered around him; around, yet slightly behind, except for Polenth. But that didn't matter; he would win this flight.

But Alianne...!

The whisper was rapidly drowned out. Gilgath wanted his queen, needed his queen.

Chereth!

Desperate with desire, he powered onwards, quickly gaining on the golden form above and ahead. Some instinct told him that it shouldn't be so easy, that the queen, worthy as she was of his adoration, should still be far out of reach. Surely her stronger wings should have given her more of a head start? It might have been the whisper, trying to slow him down, put him off? No, it was of little concern, not when Chereth was there for him to win, here and now.

Yes. We will have her, the whisper agreed.

Securely self-confident, and exhilarated by the cool winds, the heat of the sun beating down and his own lusts, Gilgath was surprised when Chereth faltered in her
flight. In a matter of heartbeats, she was practically at a standstill. A moment later, Gilgath/Pete were shocked further as an uncertain cry, tinged with anguish, erupted from Chereth's throat and mind as she struggled through the air.

ALIANNE...! I NEED, and I need you! Where... please?

Stunned, Pete once again found himself staring through two sets of eyes. He turned wildly, not wanting to see Alianne's fierce nudity, tears pouring down her dark cheeks, or the glazed, lustful longing of the other men, muttering encouragement to their dragons under their breath. Except Dave, who seemed to be begging for her forgiveness.

Control? What shaffing control? Pete almost felt like crying himself. This wasn't fair, not on Alianne, not on any of them. And not fair on the dragons, either, who couldn't help the way they were, their needs... Gilgath's needs.

"It's okay, I know, I'm here, my dearest, dearest Chereth", Alianne said, almost gasping the words out. She sounded... no, not resigned, simply determined, her voice choked with the unconditional affection they all had for their partners. She was willing to encompass... this? Oh, what a woman! And before he could manage another thought, Pete found himself subsumed in Gilgath once more, unwillingly dragged under by his respect and compassion for Alianne.

Who would be his.

Gilgath roared a challenge, daring the other bronzes and browns to try to win this flight, to defeat him. He might have lost ground during his rider's momentary lapse into confusion, but he was still far ahead of the pack. Chereth was nearly within reach; not yet ready to be caught, but oh yes, wanting it. Soon, so soon...

Then, strangely, a shadow drifted across Gilgath's back. Who! Who would dare...? He craned his head round, staring upwards, powerless as Polenth dived past, silently, picking up speed, effortlessly reaching Chereth ahead of him.

Chereth! Chereth, who cried out in joy as their union began, and was echoed on the
ground. Not looking back, Pete stumbled away, shaking, trying to rid himself of the waves of emotion thrumming through the air from the mating dragons. Though a sense of relief would surely arrive later, right then he was conscious only of Gilgath's crushing disappointment, as the defeated bronze spiralled slowly back to land.


A land that wasn't really too far below him.




Nor all that far below the helplessly entwined Polenth and Chereth, surely oblivious in their passion...

[Kath]

Episode 8: Picking up the pieces, or, Do dragons get PMT?


"Well, that went better than I expected,'' Sorka murmured, as she watched the group of riders walk away from the infirmary weyr. Even Catherine hadn't taken things too badly, though she hadn't said much either, and had made her excuses to leave very quickly once everything had been said. Almost as if she'd felt uncomfortable around the other riders, Sorka mused. Perhaps, it might be an idea to pop up to the new Weyr and have a few words with Nick, before Catherine caught up with him? Smiling tenderly at Faranth, she checked the tension in the straps spanning the gold's neck, and prepared to mount up. A light drizzle was beginning to fall from the sky - typical, for a Thread-free day! - and Sorka wondered whether it was best to risk a drenching on a straight flight, or to take the easy option of between. Another couple of weeks, and she'd be flying straight everywhere, but even though she still had the choice, Sorka preferred to avoid the effects of between on a pregnancy-stressed bladder when she could. Well, she could decide either way once they were in the air.

Just a short hop up to the Weyr, love?

As Faranth crouched down in order to allow her rider to mount, Sorka heard footsteps behind her. Tarrie must have finished tending to Porth, and was now standing in the shelter of the overhanging roof of the weyr.

"Need a lift?'' Sorka asked cheerily, tucking her hair behind her ears and out of the wind's reach. Past time it was cut again! "We're off up to the Weyr, but could easily drop you off en route.''

"Thanks, but no.'' Tarrie shook her head, eyes narrowed in thought. Sighing, she tugged on the sleeves of her jumper and folded her arms against the breeze, before giving Sorka a speculative glance. "Damage control?''

Sorka nodded. "Unless you have a better idea?''

"I wish! I'm still trying to straighten out my own head with all this, let alone anyone else's. It just feels like...''

Tarrie's voice trailed away into a strained, awkward silence.

"Just bear in mind that we could be worrying for no reason at all,'' Sorka said reassuringly.

"Yeah, right.''

The look Tarrie gave her in return told Sorka all she needed to know. Tarrie, too, thought that Bay rather than Wind Blossom was closer to the truth. She waited patiently, giving Tarrie the space she needed to gather her thoughts. It was pretty clear that the woman needed to talk, and be listened to, and Sorka wasn't going to let the opportunity slide. Better by far to get things out in the open, than to keep them boiling away under the surface.

Carenath and Sean have offered to go to the Weyr in our place, if we
need to stay here? Faranth must have been listening in on her thoughts, and Sorka readily agreed with her dragon's suggestion even as Tarrie started talking once more.

"I mean, part of me wants to suggest you let Catherine sort out her own problems! I know I'm being unfair, and things are different for her and Alianne, and Paul too I suppose.'' Tarrie took a deep breath, and went on, arms still folded defensively.

"But just because I'm not in a relationship right now, it doesn't necessarily make things any easier for me! And I really resent having my concerns sidelined by the others.''

Grimacing, Sorka had to agree. "Oh, Tarrie. You're not being unfair at all.'' Would it be Porth who was the first to mate, she wondered? Sean had shared Carenath's earlier thoughts on the matter, and had agreed it seemed likely. She'd tried to find out what Faranth's instincts were on the same subject, but the gold had simply brushed her aside, apparently in no hurry to think about such things. Any maternal instincts the dragon might have were focused solely on Sorka's own pregnancy. Why would she, Faranth, need to mate, when Sorka still hadn't clutched her own newborn?

"I know,'' Tarrie answered, walking out to join Sorka in the drizzle. She looked up at the darkening skies, and shook her head at the weather. "Typical! Anyway, I'm sorry for going on about all this, but it's just good to know that you know how I feel, at least. Weight off my mind!'' she finished, smiling.

Sorka was glad to hear the obvious relief in Tarrie's voice."Good!''

Tarrie gave Faranth a friendly pat, and briefly turned aside to glance back at her own dragon, a quizzical look on her face. "Mind you, it make me wonder... just how much our emotional turmoil affects our dragons, and
vice versa.'

Sorka raised an eyebrow, and, in lieu of a chair, leaned back against Faranth's supporting bulk. Any further insights the woman might have were more than welcome! "Go on.''

"You remember how Milath got all snappy at Porth last week, over sharing the sunlight on the ridge?''

"Mmm.''

"Well, I was speaking to Nyassa later, and she mentioned that she'd run out
of her usual meds, and asked if I had any to spare. It could just be the way they reflect our moods automatically, but I wondered... if it might be more than that?''

"Interesting,'' Sorka murmured slowly. She thought she could see where Tarrie was going with this. "So. You think that Milath may have been directly influenced by Nyassa's cycle, and it might be possible that Milath's hormones could affect Nyassa in turn?'' Or, more likely: was Porth the cause of Tarrie's own outburst the other day?

Tarrie laughed, and blushed ever so slightly. "As far as I know, dragons don't normally suffer from PMT! I just wondered if you'd noticed anything similar?''

Well, perhaps Sorka had. Perhaps Porth, and Tarrie, did need careful watching after all? In answer, Sorka shook her head. "It's worth watching out for, you're right about tha...''

A sudden surge of alarm from Faranth stopped Sorka in her tracks.

Something's wrong with Chereth!

A weird sense of heated anguish rolled across the link between dragon and rider. Sorka frantically tried to understand what Faranth was sensing, while the gold queen attempted to reach Chereth herself. Tarrie looked equally stunned, and must surely be experiencing the same thing via Porth. Confused queries from other dragons echoed through from Faranth, as the other riders tried to ascertain what was happening, and Sorka found herself slip into her accustomed role as a coordinator. Milath and Amalath were no longer with the others, and had no idea what was happening. Try as she might, Faranth was unable to make contact with any of the other dragons currently down in the south. Carenath was on his way with Sean; everyone else was to be told to sit tight and wait for news.

"She needs Alianne!'' Tarrie gasped, eyes clenched shut as she concentrated on communicating with Porth.

Porth is right, Faranth agreeed. But I do not see why she cannot find her?

This was exactly the kind of thing Sorka had been fearing, ever since speaking to Wind Blossom earlier that day. Worried, she asked Faranth to renew her efforts. Even as she did, she saw Tarrie open her eyes again, and brush her hair away from her face.

"Porth says Chereth is mating!'' Tarrie blurted out.

While this was both an amazing, and worrying, development, Sorka was simply relieved that Porth had actually had some luck reaching Chereth. The two queens flew in the same wing after all, and were probably more familiar with each others' minds. Certainly Faranth found Amalath's mind more readily than Milath's, for much the same reason.

"Mating?'' she asked.

The sense of panic felt by Faranth suddenly abated, as Tarrie continued speaking.

"Yes! Porth still can't reach any of them clearly, but Chereth... Chereth isn't frightened any more. I think they're going to be okay. ''

"We're not out of the woods yet,'' Sorka muttered. Instinct made her look over her shoulder in time to see Carenath and Sean blink out of between, far closer to the ground than they should. "Keep trying to reach them,'' she shouted over her shoulder, as she jogged towards her husband and his dragon. Carenath skidded to an untidy halt on the muddy ground, his eyes edging out of their usual blue-green into flashes of purple and a stressful red.

"Chereth's bloody mating,'' Sean shouted as he flung himself towards the ground.

Sorka sidestepped to avoid a puddle and waited for Sean to reach her. "So I hear!''

Sean, too, seemed torn between his broadest grin and most concerned glare. Finally, he laughed, and gave Sorka a quick squeeze across her shoulders. "Shaffit, I'm glad I didn't put any bets on this. Please tell me Faranth knows more about what's happening down there than Carenath does? It's bad enough trying to convince him not to fly down there and join in, and he certainly wants to try.''

No, I don't know any more, Faranth bespoke both riders. But Porth has reached Gilgath!

Sorka grabbed onto Sean's arm for support as the images appeared in her mind.

An entangled pair of dragons, bronze and gold, plummeting groundwards in a barely controlled descent. Another view: two bodies on the ground, mimicking their dragons above. Emotions swept over her; Gilgath's dejection, and his growing concern, both of which were soon drowned out by the rising tide of Chereth's joy.

Fourth hand, she picked out the thread of human commentary; Pete's thoughts, Sorka realised.

I tried, so hard, but we had no choice! None of us did.

If what Sorka was feeling via Faranth was even the slightest fraction of what the others had faced, it was no wonder that events had unfolded in the way they had. A quick glance at Sean, and they were both rushing to their dragons, to get airborne as fast as they could. As Sorka ran, the
viewpoint shifted once more, Gilgath diving in an attempt to intervene, to give warning.

I don't know what to do. I cannot reach them!

Man or dragon, the need to do something was clear, but their actions were utterly in vain. Alianne's empty, vacant eyes stared past Pete's gaze, and Gilgath's warning was rebuffed by the winning bronze's talons.

Sorka shook the images clear of her mind, and found Tarrie standing beside her, a spare set of riding straps in hand.

"Sean isn't needed there now, or Carenath. But they'll listen to Faranth.''

Numbly, Sorka nodded, realising that Tarrie was right. Once there, Faranth could make herself heard; one of the many unexpected advantages of her gender. And Alianne... Sean's presence was the last thing she'd need. Sorka hauled herself into place between Faranth's neck ridges, and reached down to assist Tarrie into place behind her.

Tell Carenath and Sean to stay here, she asked of her dragon, and to call the men back as soon as they can hear them. We'll deal with this.

She glanced over at Sean, already mounted on Carenath's back, to see him nod his head soberly. Sorka braced herself, barely anticipating Faranth's powerful leap into the air, and continued her instructions. Tell Gilgath we come, and take the visual from him.

Gilgath's visual was quickly received, and Sorka held it firm in her mind as she instructed Faranth to make the jump between.

I know what to do, Faranth supplied, as they reemerged into the humid sunshine. Wings beating strongly, she followed the mating pair down towards the earth, insisting that they hear her. Gilgath, and Firth too, were both echoing Faranth's commands, as they flew alongside in readiness.

END THIS NOW! YOU ENDANGER YOURSELVES, AND EACH OTHER!

At long last aware of something other than themselves, Polenth and Chereth finally reacted; Chereth snarling angrily at Faranth's impertinent interruption, while her mate pulled away with a frantic bellow. But with the distraction of her lover removed, the enraged queen thankfully turned her attention back to her own flight. Sorka watched anxiously as Chereth twisted in the air, her wide wings once more bearing her own weight in full. There was little room left in which to manoeuvre, but enough to avoid disaster. Mere moments later, the barely sated gold made a heavy landing on the sands, shrieking in pain. Polenth, a little luckier, made a safer landing beside her, and started crooning his support.

"That was too close,'' Tarrie shouted into Sorka's ear, fighting to be heard against the air rushing past them.

Indeed it was, but Chereth was surely not too badly hurt, Sorka hoped. Faranth soon answered her concern. Her legs hurt from the shock of the landing, and her wings are strained, but she will be fit to fly again in a few hours.

Sorka directed Faranth to land beside the other males, a little further down the beach, and as they circled in she finally had a chance to survey the scene. A dishevelled Alianne had clambered to her feet, and was stumbling towards her dragon, leaving David Caterel sitting alone in the sands. The other men were grouped around their dragons, all looking utterly exhausted. Carcasses - of cows? - littered the heavily stained sands all around, some more-or-less intact, and others little more than piles of mostly devoured bones. It looked like a warzone, like the kind Sorka remembered from the old programmes on tri-d.

Otto, Paul and Shih Lao were already mounting their dragons as Faranth landed, and none seemed willing to meet Sorka's eyes as she slid off Faranth's neck, Tarrie beside her. So. Sean had called them back; he could deal with them. She sighed, watching Pete approach. He was trying to pull his clothes back into some semblance of order, and not having much
luck.

"I'll go and see how Alianne's doing, okay?'' Tarrie said as she hurried off.

Sorka wasn't sure which if them had the easier task, as Pete stopped before her. The man looked dreadful, haunted by what had occured.

"Thankyou for getting here in time,'' he said, a twisted look of self-disgust on his face. Sorka found herself dreading speaking to Dave, who'd surely be feeling far worse about himself.

"You all did what you could, we know that,'' she said, wondering how true her words really were. But the best thing to do now was surely to give what support she could to those involved, and to avoid imlpying that anyone was to blame.

"Gilgath says we're to return north, as soon as we can. But I thought I'd see if you wanted me to take care of Dave? Alianne'll need you more, but someone should see to him as well.''

"Oh come here, you silly, thoughtful man!'' Sorka said, reaching out to give Pete a warm hug. She thumped him firmly on the back, and gave him a quick smile. "Thanks, you do that then. Both of you can head back when you're ready. Tell Sean that Tarrie and I'll return when we can, but it'll likely not be until Chereth's ready to take to the air again.'' And certainly not until Alianne was up to heading home.

Leaving Pete to see to Dave, Sorka took what comfort she could in Faranth's mental support, and turned to pick her way across the blood-soaked sand. It was time to start picking up the pieces.

If she could.

[Kath]

Choices

Running across the sands, Tarrie found herself drawing deeply on the steadfast strength of her bond with Porth. Her mind felt like it had been battered by the sheer weight of Chereth's emotions, and even now that the gold queen had stopped broadcasting to all who could hear, the numb silence created by its absence was even worse. The distance between the Hold and this beach was of no consequence. As always, Porth was simply there in Tarrie's mind: a contrast, a reflection, the perfect complement to all that was best about Tarrie herself. Until today, Tarrie would have said the same was true of all her wingmates, but now... now Tarrie could no longer be fully certain.

The sight before her provided no assurances. Chereth lay slumped morosely across the churned sand, with her wedge-shaped head cradled in Alianne's arms. The gold dragon's strained wings were still awkwardly outstretched, twitching restlessly as she tried in vain to find a position free of discomfort. True, it was a relief that Chereth didn't seem too badly injured, but all Porth could sense from the other queen were nested
layers of confusion, pain, and concern for Alianne. Certainly, Chereth had no time for Porth's intrusive appeals, not with her rider in so much distress. Even from half a beach away, Tarrie could see that the other rider was very shaken, understandably so!

Polenth and David were yet another source of worry. Clearly torn between concern for his new mate and his rider, the bronze dragon looked equally forlorn as he paced uneasily to and fro beside Chereth; the graceless draconic gait made all the more ungainly by the bronze dragon's indecision.

Oh Porth, he looks so confused.

He is. I will tell him to return to his rider, who needs him more.

The bronze dragon twisted his neck to cast his slowly whirling gaze on Tarrie for a few moments, and she waited patiently to see how he would act.

Polenth says we must make things right again.

Tarrie nodded, and watched the pale, brawny bronze give Chereth one last wistful glance before he turned to make his way back to Dave. Not a problem solved, perhaps, but at least it meant one less thing to deal with right now. Which just left Alianne, and Chereth. Taking a deep breath, Tarrie took the last few steps that separated her from the pair. She was so uncertain of what to say, how to begin, that it seemed easier by far to concentrate on Chereth's condition first. Tarrie could almost hear Sean's mantra: the dragon always comes first. After over a year fighting Thread in the air, it was now a deeply ingrained habit which was well worth sticking to.

"How is she?'' she asked, seeing no better way to begin.

The other woman abruptly looked up and stared her coldly in the eyes, her dark face carefully held in an expressionless mask. The woman was trying so hard to keep things bottled up, but there was no mistaking the moisture in her eyes or the undercurrents of raw emotion in her voice. Hardly surprising, after what had happened.

"She's hurting, Tarrie, but she knows it won't last. She'll be fine, with a bit of time and numbweed.'' Alianne choked the last sentence out, and closed her eyes.

Porth?

Chereth does hurt, but mostly because her rider hurts, and she doesn't understand why. She is very confused! I do not understand either. Her rider has mated before, has she not?

It's... complicated. It certainly was, and Tarrie promised Porth she'd explain things properly later. After everything they'd learned today, a good heart-to-heart was definitely in order. But now, there simply wasn't the time, and she really didn't care to dwell on all the implications right at this moment. But one thing was sure, Alianne herself needed considerably more than just time and numbweed.

It wasn't all that cold, but Tarrie realised that Alianne was shivering in the breeze as she tried to comfort Chereth. She could be going into shock, for all Tarrie knew. Shrugging her way out of her heavy jacket, Tarrie crouched down to sit on the sand beside Alianne.

"Here,'' she said, handing the coat over. "Sorka'll be here soon, and she'll take fine care of Chereth.''

"Thanks.''

Alianne drew back from the unwelcome contact, and pulled the garment over her bare arms. Just watching was enough to twist Tarrie up inside; as much as she wanted to reach out and comfort Alianne, she didn't know if she could, or should. For all that they'd had some warning of what might take place when their dragons mated, Tarrie herself had barely had a chance to assimilate what the possible consequences could be, and even now she still needed more answers.

Alianne would have faced the reality almost totally unprepared.

How traumatised was she by what had happened? And what of Chereth? After all of Wind Blossom's warnings, Tarrie was desperately worried that the closeness between dragon and rider might have been affected in some way. But as Alianne turned her back on Tarrie, to return her attentions to her dragon, maybe there was less to worry about on that score? Though there was almost a sense of desperation in Alianne's manner, in the way she caressed Chereth's eye ridges. What was she thinking? Did she blame the men for what had happened, and could any of them ever work together again?

Tarrie looked behind her, in search of Sorka. Good. She was on her way. "What about you, Alianne? Everything happened so suddenly. Are you alright?'' Tarrie asked.

The silence stretched out awkwardly, until Alianne let out a deep sigh. She hugged her knees in towards her chest, and started speaking with what little control she could muster.

"Am I alright? What do you think, Tarrie? What are you expecting me to do about it? Scream? Cry? Start hitting things like a kid with a tantrum?''

"I don't expect anything, Alianne. Honestly, I simply wouldn't know where to start. We're here for you, for whatever you need.'' Tarrie left the list unspoken, voice thick with caring concern.

Alianne grunted. "I know. For me, for Chereth. Don't worry about deciding which of us matters most, because there's not much distinction any more.'' Bitter words, bitterly said. "Easy there, Chereth,'' she added soothingly, as her dragon jerked her head upwards with a start. Alianne leaned in close to caress the queen's headknobs again, and Chereth nuzzled her gently in reply.

Tarrie suspected that the dragon was well aware of Alianne's need for comfort, even if she didn't really understand her rider's distress. If the bond of trust between dragon and rider had been somewhat strained, at least it still seemed to be intact. But although it could give Alianne the support she needed, the woman still needed to face what had happened somehow, rather than just avoid it completely. Hopefully Sorka would have a better idea of what to do now that she was here.

"I've asked Tenneth and Nora to bring some medical supplies over,'' Sorka said calmly as she looked over the gold dragon. "We'll have Chereth's pains eased in no time. Faranth says the left wing hurts most. Is that right, Alianne?''

Alianne laughed, almost in disbelief. "You'll ease her pain? I am her pain, don't you understand?'' she whimpered.

Tarrie reached out to wrap Alianne in her arms. "It's okay, Alianne. You're upset, hurt, and she doesn't understand it, does she? I don't know if I'll do much better, but Alianne, I really need to try. We're all here for you.''
Had she gone too far, pushed too hard, too soon? Was Alianne ready to
talk? Was it even the right thing to do? Tarrie verbally backed off, and let her arms drop to her sides. "But if you're...''

"Don't you dare treat me like a rape victim, Tarrie!''

"Ali, I...''

Confused, Tarrie was momentarily stunned by the woman's outburst, even as Chereth surged to her feet with a bellow, looming protectively over her rider.

Porth!

Sorka was at Tarrie's side within seconds, all the weight of Faranth's authority behind her. There were tears in her eyes as she knelt down beside Alianne.

"Alianne, dear, we won't do anything you don't want. But we can't do nothing, we can't leave you like this. Chereth just needs to know you'll be alright; she cares so much for you.''

"She's the only thing that matters to me...'' Alianne whispered. "I'd do anything for her, she knows that. She wants to be happy, for me to feel as good as her, and I can't. And she can still feel me hurting, and it's not her fault!''

Of course. Suddenly, all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Alianne had so much emotion bottled up, all of it revolving around the gold dragon: the source of her distress and her only hope of healing, and the one being who needed to be protected from this painful burden if at all possible. It didn't matter that Alianne was close to breaking point, or that Chereth was the prime cause of Alianne's distress. For Alianne to place any blame on her dragon was simply unconscionable. Chereth had only done what came naturally, after all. So whatever Alianne was feeling about what had happened, however much she'd been unwittingly caught up in events, the woman had to find some way of coming to terms with it that didn't war with her bond with Chereth. Tarrie looked up at Sorka, hoping that the other rider had understood.

"I know,'' Sorka said softly. "It's no-one's fault.''

Alianne shot her a challenging glare, and brushed a tear off her cheek with the heel of her palm. "Of course it's no-one's fault. You'd have done the same, both of you.''

"Ali, you didn't have a choice,'' Tarrie said.

"Didn't I? I've never been so close to her before, and I've never felt further away. She was so strong, so alien, so... her.''
Alianne stopped to look lovingly up at her dragon, and burst into tears. "Oh love, I'm so sorry, I came so close to letting you down.''

"Everything'll be okay,'' Tarrie said soothingly. "Look, Tenneth's here, with Nora.''

Alianne lifted her head, and tried to smile. "Chereth's glad. She says I can stop worrying about her now. She says I should talk to you, if I can't talk to her.''

Sorka gravely took hold of her hand. "They know us better than we think, sometimes. I'll be back soon, and we'll have Chereth better in no time. Tarrie'll stay here with you for now.''

Faranth says Sorka says you're doing well, and you should keep helping her, Porth said, her comforting strength a welcome reassurance in Tarrie's mind.

That's good to know. Listen in, and keep them informed, Tarrie suggested, the rapid mental exchange taking barely a moment. She nodded in reply to Sorka's words. "We've been so worried for you, Alianne, especially after everything Wind Blossom and Bay told Sorka.''

"They didn't know the half of it.''

"No?''

Alianne sighed. "I would never have chosen this. Ever. And that's why I had to, to make it my choice, to protect her and everyone else. But I wouldn't change what happened, either. I've never felt more amazing, more alive. And if that were all it was, just the sex, it wouldn't matter, even if it was the be... I mean, it's not like David and I are emotionally involved at all, not in the slightest. It was Chereth's emotions I shared, and that's what made it so... different.''

From the sounds of things, Alianne had a lot of doubts to work out, but had she really enjoyed it? No wonder the woman was feeling so confused!
"So, you're not... hurt, are you?''

Alianne shook her head. "Nothing unusual. Just a bit, no, very shaken up. Of course, Samuel won't like it one bit, and he'll probably still try and cripple David if he gets the chance - hey, I'll try it myself if he comes anywhere near me again - but we could deal with that.'' She paused, and stared off into space. "I'm probably not making much sense, am I, rambling on like this?''

Tarrie smiled encouragingly. "You're doing better than I would, believe me. And don't worry about Dave. Leave that to Sean and Sorka.''

Seeing Nora and Sorka returning, Alianne spoke up to give them instructions. "It's the secondary dorsal muscle that's hurting her most. Can you start there please, and she'll tell Faranth and Tenneth what to see to next.'' She watched as Sorka nodded her agreement and gestured for Nora to place the bucket of numbweed beside the aching dragon. Happy that Sorka had Chereth's care in hand, she turned her attention back to Tarrie.

"Ever since she hatched, Chereth's always come first, however much I've pretended otherwise. Sam was okay at the start, when she was just a hatchling, but we seem to spend so little time together these days, and I keep letting him down. He wants a family, and so do I, but it's not easy doing what we do.'' She covered her eyes with her hands, a let out a smothered sob.

Tarrie reached out to stroke Alianne's dark hair, to let her know she cared. "Alianne, you don't need to tell me all this if you don't want to.''

The other woman took a ragged breath. "That's just it. I do need to tell you, one of you. You're a dragon rider too, and I can't think of anyone else who'd understand, and I have to get this off my chest. I've just been fighting this losing battle for so long, ever since the move north. I can't live two lives anymore, always putting a brave face on things, no matter how much I want to.''

Tarrie was stunned. "Alianne, I had no idea. You've seemed so happy together; I've envied you so much for that.''

"But it can't work anymore! There'll never be a time when I can put his needs first, and if we had a family, what then? Look at Sorka's boy. He's been raised more by Mairi than anyone else. I keep trying to find an answer, some way to make things work, but Sam deserves better. I love him so much. I don't want it to be over, but Chereth can already feel his resentment, and I can't do anything to make things right again. Oh Tarrie, how I've tried!''

"Oh come here,'' Tarrie said, holding Alianne close as the other rider finally allowed her tears to break loose. Yes, this seemed to be the root of things. Once Impression had been made, there was no going back, no denying the dragon that had become the sole focus of your life. In that, none of the riders had a choice. Oh, there were hardships and regrets, and constant danger, but your dragon made everything worthwhile, wondrously so. But never easy, no, never that.

"We'll figure something out, all of us will,'' Tarrie said. She hated herself for sounding so upbeat, so reassuring. Alianne's life would probably never be the same again.

[Kath]

Chapter 9: In Council

Sipping carefully at her mug of piping hot Klah, Tarrie slowly made her way through the growing warren of Fort Hold. She really wasn't in a hurry to reach the dragon riders' meeting room, but neither did she want to draw attention to herself by being late. Halfway up one of the winding staircases that connected the various levels of the Hold, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Tarrie! Any change in the outlook for today's fall?''

She turned, and waited for Sean to reach her. He was climbing the steps two at a time in his usual exuberant fashion, but the serious expression that they'd seen so much of in the past few days was firmly affixed to his face.

"No, it should stay clear, more's the pity.''

Sean gestured at the weather report flimsy she was holding under one arm. "May I?''

"Sure,'' Tarrie said, handing it over for Sean to scan as they walked. "Talia caught up with me at breakfast; she's predicting some heavy weather next week, which could drown a fall or two if we're lucky. They've lost the uplink to the last MetSat though... so it'll be back to the age-old guesswork until the end of the pass.'' And probably longer than that, Tarrie thought to herself.

"So I heard. Ongola's not too happy about it; he thinks it was probably Thread ovoids knocking it out of orbit. As if we can do a damn thing about the stuff while it's all the way up there.''

As the pair paused to allow a team of maintenance workers carrying heavy crates to pass through a narrowing in the corridor, Tarrie wondered what would break down next. Not the hydroponics, hopefully. Or the hot-water plumbing.

"I was meaning to ask: how's Porth doing today?''

Glad to have her depressing reverie interrupted, Tarrie smiled briefly. Thinking of Porth always cheered her up. "Healing well. She doesn't seem too stiff, so I'd like to get her out in the air again once 'fall's passed over.'' Porth seemed to be feeling better and better with every hour that passed, but now she was dozing, giving Tarrie a sense of dreamy calm that she really didn't want to interrupt.

"Hmmm. Best not to rush back in to action until you're sure she's fully healed, but there's no reason not to fly her later. Will you be sitting Threadfall out with her, or joining the groundcrews?''

Tarrie snorted. Sean rarely left such choices up to the individual, but in the wake of yesterday, perhaps he and Sorka had decided to go a bit easier on everyone? "If they ask me, I'll gladly help. But you know, after everything that happened yesterday, I think I'd rather just spend some time with her.''

She waited, as Sean gave her a slow, considering look. Eventually, he nodded in agreement. "Might be a wise idea at that. Of course, I could do with someone on the ground to keep a handle on the younger dragons, when they're not flying with the rest of us. Madrath and Shallarth seem to have settled down well, but I want the other four flying in shifts, alternating between wing and firestone duty. I'm still not happy with Lin's technique with her 'thrower, and Jess's Hallath seems to think he has something to prove.''

Tarrie shook her head in exasperation at his litany of the younger riders' deficiencies. No, nothing was ever done well enough to please Sean, but he did have a point about Lin. Really, the woman needed a sharp talking too about proper maintenance of her equipment. "We must have been just as bad when we were their age. Three months of Threadfighting isn't much, when you think we've got another forty years of fall to look forward to. They'll catch up!''

"They'd better. ''

As they turned a corner, Tarrie was surprised to see a crowd of people waiting outside the usual meeting room. Bay Harkonen-Nietro and Phas Radamanth were amongst them, chatting quietly to Sorka.

"What're you all doing out here?'' Sean asked, clearly equally as confused.

"S'okay,'' Kathy said cheerily, poking her head out from around the door. "We're just about finished in here. Tarrie, you're gonna love this!''

Bemused, Tarrie waited to file into the room amongst the rest of the group. With everyone jostling around to find either their usual places or an empty spot, at first Tarrie couldn't tell what the fuss was about. She wasn't too surprised to see Wind Blossom in the room, a still, aloof figure gazing out the window. But beside her, Nyassa and Pete were frantically unfolding the last of the stacked chairs and placing them around a large, pale brown, smoothly carved, beautiful wooden table. Mouth agape with wonder, Tarrie shook her head.

"How? Where?''

"Courtesy of Paradise Hold,'' Nyassa said smugly. "They abandoned it; so we took it.''

"Tell me we can keep this one?''

"Seeing as it doesn't officially exist, I don't see why not,'' Sorka said. "Though we'll have to get it shifted up to our new Weyr pretty soon if we want it to stay that way.''

Tarrie moved to her usual place between Dave and Jerry, and sat down, still smiling like an idiot. Eyes closed, she ran her fingers over the varnished surface, enjoying the novelty. Furniture like this wouldn't be made again until well after the pass ended, but with care, it could easily
last until the next one.

"How was she?'' Dave asked quietly as the others slowly settled into their seats.

Tarrie opened her eyes, suddenly sober. There was no need to ask who she was. "She's not too happy. Not at all. Not because of you and Polenth, but... well yes, but she doesn't blame you for it. I think it was just... too much, with too little warning.''

Dave nodded sadly. "She had to put Chereth first. It's that, isn't it?''

Tarrie looked up to meet Dave's steady grey gaze. He'd cut right to the heart of things, just like that. Not that she was surprised to hear it; more reassured, if anything.

"Yeah.'' Tarrie couldn't help wondering if losing nearly eve