Draconia: Rehatching

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Varthikes
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Draconia: Rehatching

Post by Varthikes »

...And here are a few sample chapters to my third book, Draconia: Rehatching, due to launch January 1, 2015.


Chapter 3 (excerpt)

It was time. The hatchling was now fit to emerge from the incubator. Varthikes kept an eye on his stripling while, with the other, he watched Doctor Le’Firnn prepare a makeshift nest on the metal floor beside him. Two other Malcons worked to set up three peculiar devices around the bed, each featuring a lighted panel facing the nest. Le’Firnn explained that they would provide a target point, allowing them to teleport the hatchling from the incubator to the nest.

“We are using packing foam to simulate the nesting sand in your lair,” Le’Firnn further explained as she arranged the dull yellow material. “We use it to protect delicate equipment in these containers.” She waved a hand to indicate the objects that occupied the shelves of the chamber they were in.

I much appreciate your effort, Doctor Le’Firnn, Varthikes said, dipping his head.

The door behind her slid open to reveal another Malcon healer. The male named Irentin, pushing a platform that hovered above the floor at his waist. On the platform were the shell fragments from the egg, which had been kept in stasis since the pre-hatchling was transferred to the incubator. With gloved hands, Irentin and Le’Firnn transferred the fragments to the bed.

Varthikes turned his full attention to the incubator. Doctor Schmeisser was there with two other Malcon healers monitoring the youngling’s condition. “We’re ready for the transfer on this end,” Schmeisser told them, turning first to Varthikes, then to Irentin and Le’Firnn.

“As are we,” Irentin replied. The Malcon doctor stepped over to the com-speaker near the incubator’s monitoring console. “Teleport Chamber, lock onto the lifeform within the incubator. Transfer him to the target grid that we have provided.”

Schmeisser picked up a hand scanner from near the console and turned to the nest. A moment later, a burst of light emanated from the incubator, followed instantly by a second burst on the makeshift nest. Varthikes turned his full attention on the nest just as the light faded. His stripling was now on the nest, his golden scales glistening in the dim light of the cargo chamber.

Varthikes dropped his lower jaw slightly in a Draconian smile. His tail slapped the metal deck in delight. But then, a wave of panic assaulted his mind. His tail froze; his smile vanished as the youngling remained oblivious to his new surroundings. Instead, Vruthes' forequarters shook, his nostrils flared, and his scales appeared to be sucked in around the ribcage. In the instant Varthikes noticed all of this, an alarm went off on Schmeisser’s device.

What is happening with him?

“He’s having trouble breathing!” the Human doctor told them, his eyes on the scanner. “Looks like tachypnea. His lungs are having trouble absorbing the albumen fluid.” He turned to Irentin. “We need to begin giving him CPAP stat!”

“What?” a baffled Le'Firnn asked.

“Continuous positive airway pressure!”

Irentin nodded once and rushed to the com-speaker, connecting the line to the infirmary.

For what reason is he having this problem?

The question echoed in Schmeisser's mind. “Uh... I’m not sure,” he finally said as he recalled what he knew of the condition as it occurred in Humans — mostly in infants delivered prematurely, or by cesarean section. The lung fluid is not squeezed out as it would if the infant was delivered normally. But, in young hatched from eggs, he recalled from his studies in the past seven years — so to have something to work with in the event of having to treat a Draconian — a period exists during the hatching process where the hatchling’s lungs begin to exchange carbon dioxide for oxygen directly from the environment, rather than relying on the diffusion of the gases through the shell. He went over this with Varthikes. “It could be that we brought him out of the incubator too quickly. His lungs did not have time to adjust to the transition.”

As Schmeisser presented this possibility, Varthikes noticed Le’Firnn stepping up to the nest and kneeling before the hatchling with an unfamiliar contraption in her hands. She started placing one end of it — a clear, hollowed-out part — over the youngling’s nostrils. At once, Vruthes tried to cry out but succeeded in only a gurgling grunt with his high-pitched voice. The young dragon struggled with his legs, using them for the first time to try to pull himself away from the Malcon healer. “Keep him calm, Varthikes. This might help improve his breathing,” Le’Firnn said when he asked what she was doing.

Varthikes reached out with his mind and touched his stripling. He blinked at the pain that gripped his own chest. With the pain, waves bewilderment came from Vruthes with all these strange creatures around him. It is safe, young Vruthes, he said softly, accompanying his thought-voice with a croon. These creatures are friends. They will help you. You will be safe.

Vruthes’ head fell back. The pain and panic that had gripped Varthikes suddenly ceased. Vruthes! he cried through a panicked roar.

“We’re losing him!” Schmeisser cried, his attention on his own hand-held scanner. The Human doctor barely had the words out before Le'Firnn resumed placing her device over Vruthes’ nostrils and began to squeeze the other, bulbous end of the device.

Schmeisser stepped around Le’Firnn and knelt beside the hatchling’s heaving chest. “His vital signs are stabilizing,” Schmeisser said at length, his eyes still on his scanner. “Heartbeat becoming regular. Lungs beginning to work, but he is yet out of danger.”

Varthikes kept part of his mind on Vruthes while Schmeisser reported the youngling’s improving condition. Through his mental connection with the hatchling, Varthikes once again felt the painful grip on his chest, signifying Vruthes’ return to consciousness. But the pain was not as much as before, and the panic was mostly gone. As the pain faded, a new feeling from the hatchling replaced it — one of recognition and entreaty. I am here, young Vruthes, he said. Continue to allow the bipeds to help you.

The doors leading to the rest of the ship slid open. Varthikes turned an eye on the door to see another Malcon healer enter with another device similar to the one Le’Firnn currently had, except this new one had a box-like machine instead of the bulbous contraption that Le’Firnn squeezed on hers. Ambassador Cairleeta and Ketian L’Kirt followed.

Le’Firnn and the new healer switched the hatchling over to the new device. Meanwhile, Irentin and Schmeisser informed Cairleeta and L’Kirt what had happened and of the hatchling’s current status. Then, Cairleeta stepped toward Varthikes. “How is your hatchling feeling, Varthikes?”

He is feeling better now than he was before.</i> Varthikes dipped his head in acknowledgment. <i>I thank you, Ambassador Cairleeta, for your concern.

“I would like to keep him here for a bit longer,” Schmeisser said, “to be sure he’s stable.”

I agree, Doctor Schmeisser.
"What has been done has been done and cannot be undone."--Ruth, All the Weyrs of Pern
"Dragons can't change who they are, and who would want them to? Dragons are powerful, amazing creatures."--Hiccup, Dragons: Riders of Berk
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Varthikes
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Re: Draconia: Rehatching

Post by Varthikes »

Chapter 10 (excerpt)

Mark stepped onto the bridge. The deck was lit red, just like the rest of the ship. He stepped up behind his command chair, eyes on the forward viewscreen and the squadron of Norseen Thunderbirds displayed there. The enemy ships steadily becoming bigger as they closed the distance. He looked around the bridge. His crew manned their stations, ready for battle — for the second time. His eyes met the com-officer's. “Any signal?”

“None, sir,” Clive answered.

Mark nodded and turned back to the screen. Not that he expected any. Norseen were just as likely to open fire without a word. He could try to warn them off, but they would very likely not listen.

“Shields are raised. Weapons are ready,” Licarski reported from Primary Weapons Control.

“We're patched into the defense platforms?”

“Yes, sir.” Mark nodded is approval, even as he recognized the grim tone in Licarski's voice. Noting the odds that they were facing, Ben had recommended taking aboard the surviving colonists and retreating, at least until reinforcements arrived.

Mark turned back to Hancock at the com-station. “Open channel to our ships.” He circled around his chair.

“You're on.”

“This is Captain Johnson. In a moment, we will engage the enemy. Admiral Nabrokov's task force will not arrive for another eight hours or so. I know the odds are against us, and that the best course of action would be to bring the colonists aboard and withdraw until our reinforcements arrive. But, we must stay. In accord with Earth's Agreement with the Circle of Grand Sages, we must defend Draconia against invaders. Therefore, we must hold out as long as possible. For the colony. For Draconia. The Agreement between our two worlds may have been scrapped, but I intend to continue to uphold Earth's end. To demonstrate to the Circle of Grand Sages that we are loyal to the Agreement, that we mean to honor it.” Mark took a deep breath. What he would say next had to be said, but he feared the result. “But again, that Agreement was with Earth. The Malcons may leave if they wish.”

Mark waited for the response. The silence hung over him, taunting him. “We will not be going anywhere, Captain Johnson,” L'Kirt finally said. “We have defended Draconia thus far. We will continue to do so.”

Mark smiled his satisfaction. Of course, the Malcon captain could not mention Cairleeta's mission. The Norseen could be listening. If they knew about the ambassador's mission, they would attempt to sabotage it. “We're pleased to have you. I'm sure the Draconians would be, too.”

Mark settled into his chair. A single Thunderbird now filled the forward viewscreen. The Norseen were coming in as close as they could so their weapons would have maximum effect. “Aurora, forward thrust. Take us over the enemy. Ben,” he turned to PWC, “stand by laser banks and missiles.”

On the screen, the Thunderbird shifted toward the bottom of the screen as Aurora operated her controls. Bolts of energy lashed out from beneath the bird's wings in a pair of deadly streams. Mark gripped his armrests as the deck beneath him lurched. Then, a much narrower pair of beams from his own ship returned the favor across the bird's dorsal hull, followed by a pair of missiles. The shield protecting the enemy ship shimmered with the impacts as it struggled to hold back the destructive energy.

“We've sustained light damage to port and starboard ventral hull. The shield is holding,” reported the ensign manning the bridge engineering interface.

“What about them?”

“Same to their dorsal hull,” Newberry answered from tactical. “They are behind us now. Banking starboard.”

“Aft torpedoes, Ben.”

“Away... Impact on their sublight engines.”

“Damaged, but still operational,” Newberry said. “Their speed is suffering.”

“Hard to port,” Mark ordered. “Bring our forward weapons to bear.”

The view on the screen shifted again. The stars swept to the right of the screen until the Thunderbird came back into view and let loose more deadly streams and a volley of missiles. Aurora banked. The Norseen wing cannons missed, but the dorsal cannons and missiles struck across their ventral and dorsal forward hull. Licarski returned the favor, firing all forward lasers and emptying torpedo and missile launchers. All hit along the bird's port wing and nacelle as the Frontier leveled out and swooped over. Then, Licarski fired the aft laser banks at the enemy's sublight engines.

“Their sublight and warp engines are down,” Newberry reported.

Aurora banked to the port, giving them a view of the battle. The five scout ships had formed two groups, each group engaging a Thunderbird. The Malcon cruisers were outnumbered two-to-one. A burst of flame — one of the scout ships.

The defense platforms came alive, targeting any Norseen ship within range. “Have the platforms assist the scout ships,” Mark ordered. Another burst drew his eyes to the Arcadia. Two Thunderbirds engaged their sister ship — one ahead, the other behind. The enemy ahead of them struck along the Arcadia's ventral hull. At the same time, her port nacelle exploded under fire from the ship behind. Explosions rocked his ship as another Thunderbird came into view, weapons blazing.

*

Trihard knelt over Reed's unmoving body. Blood covered the helmsman's face, torso, and entire right arm. He felt his neck — no pulse, but he couldn't allow himself a moment to grieve. He looked up at the burning helm console. Smoke and the stench of seared flesh and circuits assaulted his nose. The deck lurched, throwing him back against his chair.

“We lost our port nacelle!” Jones cried from the engineering console.

“Status of enemy,” Trihard requested, pulling himself back into his chair. On the flickering viewscreen, explosions lit up the belly of the Thunderbird.

“Forward ship's ventral shields weakening,” Jaeger answered.

“Concentrate fire,” Trihard ordered McKnight at PWC. On the screen, the Thunderbird continued to close, angled to pass over them. “Ventral shields or engines.” He turned back to his executive at tactical. “The other ship?”

“Forward shields weakened. They—”

“Brace!”

The chief science officer had just gotten the word out when explosions jarred the ship hard enough to rattle Trihard's bones.

“Dorsal shields gone. Torpedo launchers destroyed,” Jones said.

“The first ship's ventral shielding is gone now,” Jaeger reported.

“And, I've just taken care of the other ship's aft shields,” McKnight added.

“Both ships are coming back around.”

Two ships. One ahead, the other behind. They had to concentrate on one of them. The one coming at them now should be the one with weakened forward shields. “Bank to port,” Trihard ordered. “Target forward lasers and missiles on that ship's forward shields. Target aft weapons on the other ship.”

“They've restrengthened those shields,” Jaeger reported, “but drawing power from the shields protecting their nacelles.”

“Alter target.”

“Done,” McKnight said. “Firing.”

On the screen, four pairs of laser bolts streamed across the void to strike the enemy's nacelles, followed by a volley of missiles. Then, something slammed his ship. Trihard was thrown from his chair. He found himself on the deck. Explosions flared up all over the bridge, accompanied by the agonizing scream of a crewman caught on fire. Trihard, pulling himself to his feet, whirled toward the scream. It was Lieutenant Jones at the engineering console. Helen Grey, the com-officer, rushed toward him with an extinguisher. Jaeger called for his attention. “Ventral shields breached. Engineering reports severe damage to engine core.”

“Forward ship's launching missiles,” the science officer reported.

Trihard turned toward the screen to see half-dozen cylindrical projectiles rushing at them. The navigator started banking starboard, but he was too late. The missiles shot over the bridge. More explosions erupted. The ship lurched, throwing Trihard back into his chair.

“Engine core going critical!” Jaeger exclaimed.

Trihard looked around the bridge. A third of the controls smashed and burning. His officers looked at him expectantly. The Norseen ship hung out the forward viewscreen. Time seemed to slow as he approached the decision. The decision he always feared having to make. He took a deep breath. “All hands, abandon ship.”

*

Three of the defense platforms concentrated fire on a Thunderbird engaging a pair of scout ships. Each platform fired three pairs of laser cannons. Two Thunderbirds broke off their attack on the battlecruisers to engage the platforms.

Meanwhile, the scout ships charged the Thunderbird, hurtling plasma torpedoes at the enemy. The torpedoes hit, the destructive force penetrating the bird's forward shields. The Norseen returned the favor, each wing-mounted cannon targeting a separate Malcon ship. The Malcons attempted to evade the fire. The Treilsh was successful, but the Railzbid took a hit to her starboard hyper-warp engine. The Railzbid spun out of control. Komien Pi'Nog regained control of her ship. With most of her crew dead, Pi'Nog called for ramming speed. As her ship closed the distance, dodging Norseen fire, Pi'Nog let loose a barrage of phased-energy and torpedoes until the power to the weapons systems was exhausted.

The <i>Treilsh</i> broke off her attack as her sister ship punctured the Thunderbird's ventral shields and tore through the body of the ship. The resulting explosions ripped the bird apart.

*

Another Thunderbird fell under a volley of torpedoes and a barrage of phased-energy fire from the Jeilb. A second bird swooped in from astern, launched a volley of her own, striking the battlecruiser's port hyper-warp engine. The Jeilb returned the favor, firing dorsal phase cannons and torpedo launchers to tear through the Thunderbird's ventral-aft shields.

Ketian L'Kirt held onto his chair with a death grip as the deck lurched beneath him. Explosions erupted around the command deck, followed by a brief, agonizing scream of an officer caught in one of the blasts. He looked around the smashed bridge until his eyes fell on the forward viewscreen. The enemy vessel was coming about and settling into a head-on course.

“Bank to starboard,” L'Kirt ordered.

The view on the screen changed as the helmsman re-oriented the ship. A moment later, the Thunderbird lashed out with twin streams of energy bolts. One stream grazed the starboard shields; the other struck the hull below the bridge, setting off a few more explosions that destroyed the helm and communications consoles, killing both officers.

Tiergin retaliated. The Thunderbird banked, avoiding half of the phased-energy beams; the other half drilled through the bird's forward shields. The bird continued toward them, releasing another pair of rapid-fire laser blasts through the battlecruiser's weakened port wing.

“We are loosing shields,” a crewman reported. “The reactor is failing.”

Shrok! L'Kirt swore to himself. He had known that this would not end well. Had they been at full strength, they would have had a better chance taking on two Thunderbirds. But as it was, still recovering from the previous battle, their chances had been marginal.

Komien Tiergin, get the crew to the escape pods.”

*

Over a dozen escape pods and half-dozen shuttles shot away from the UES Arcadia. Each turned toward the planet, dodging fire from the Norseen Thunderbird. Trihard remained on the bridge and manned PWC. He covered the escapees, placing the laser weapons on auto-firing control and locked on the Thunderbird. Even so, some Norseen fire managed to punch through and destroy a number of the pods.

Trihard cursed the lizards and, assuring that all shuttles and escape pods were away, rushed over to the navigation console. He opened the intercom to the engine room. Kirkson, his chief engineer, and a handful of his people elected to remain aboard and fight to keep the engine core together as long as possible. “Kirkson, all power to the sublight engines. Give me ramming speed!”

“Aye, sir!”

Trihard worked the controls before him and fired the engines. The ship started toward the Thunderbird. Trihard looked around the wrecked bridge, where he had worked with some very fine officers over the past eight years. Now, those officers were either dead or escaping to the planet below. He will see to it that those officers escaping made it there safely. But, after they were on the planet, then what? How would the dragons receive them? Three weeks ago, they might have welcomed the survivors with understanding. But, after the recent attacks on them, if what Johnson had told him was true, the chances of that were not as great. But, the survivors' chances were still better on the planet than they were here.

With that thought, Trihard took a deep breath and placed the ship on a collision course. With the computer locked on course, he rushed back to Weapons Control and hurtled the last missiles at the bird, which attempted to maneuver out of his path. Arcadia followed.

“We're loosing—!” An explosion of static cut off Kirkson's report. Consoles went dead, the lights went out, the screen went blank. Sitting in pitch black, Trihard took a final, shaky breath just before the explosion ripped through the deck.

Inertia carried the dying Arcadia into the belly of the Thunderbird. The ships collided in a brief burst of fire.

*

On the viewscreen, Mark saw one of the Malcon battlecruisers explode. Only minutes earlier, he had seen the Arcadia collide with the Thunderbird. Escape pods and shuttles from both ships fled toward Draconia.

“The Jeilb has been destroyed,” Newberry confirmed.

His bones rattled as his own ship shook under Norseen fire, bringing him back to the Frontier. His eyes scanned the command deck, consoles smashed and burning. Tim, the navigator, laid unmoving on the deck a few feet from him, his console ruined. Tim wasn't alone. Around the bridge, other officers lay dead.

“Shields are failing, Captain,” Licarski reported. “We can't take much more of this!”

Mark ground his teeth. His eyes drifted toward the planet below them. “I promised the Grand Sage protection!”

“Message from the Helist,” Clive announced. “The Malcons are withdrawing to the second planet.”

“I recommend the same, Captain,” Aurora said, turning to him. “We'll do no good for Draconia if we're destroyed.”

Mark held his glaring eyes on the viewscreen. A part of him was leaning toward ordering ramming speed, joining Trihard and the Arcadia. But, Aurora was right. It would do Draconia no good. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he nodded his agreement. “Is warp drive still off-line?”

“Yes, Captain,” Aurora answered.

“Clive, contact the Malcons for assistance.” He took a breath to prepare himself for what he was going to say next. “Then, inform Takamura and Nabrokov that we're forced to withdraw. And, tell Takamura about the shuttles and escape pods.”
"What has been done has been done and cannot be undone."--Ruth, All the Weyrs of Pern
"Dragons can't change who they are, and who would want them to? Dragons are powerful, amazing creatures."--Hiccup, Dragons: Riders of Berk
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Varthikes
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Re: Draconia: Rehatching

Post by Varthikes »

Chapter 13 (excerpt)

They were almost there. From Sariphir’s back, Audwin recognized Eye Glade, just passing beneath them. He returned his eyes forward.

Some time after passing the glade, someone in their flight called out with a low, alerting bugle. Flyers ahead, the accompanied thought-voice announced.

Audwin squinted, wishing he had the Draconians’ sharp vision. But, he did indeed catch the gleams of metal. More than a dozen of them, circling over the colony. Audwin patted Sariphir’s neck; she turned and an eye to him. “Can you make out the shape of the flyers?”

Sariphir returned her eyes forward. A moment later, she looked back at him. I make out a single pair of wings, arching down and forward. Belonging are those flyers to the invaders about which you had told us? The Norseen?

Audwin sighed and nodded. They are. It was just as he had feared — they had arrived too late to prevent the Norseen occupation of the colony.

We are then too late to prevent the invaders’ take over of the Human settlement, someone said. We should fly on to rendezvous with the West Sun flight.

We will,
Vorthines replied. We will, however, fly by the colony and assess the strength of the enemy. Everyone stay alert!

They continued their approach. The fighters got bigger. Before long, not only did Audwin recognize the wings that Sariphir described, but he made out the cannons attached, one per wing. Half of the fighters gathered in formation and flew to intercept them.

Audwin’s heart pounded as the fighters drew closer, picking up speed. Here he was again, flying into battle on dragonback. At least, this time he wouldn’t be useless. He patted his phase pistol. A part of him wished Varthikes was with him as before — not that he didn’t trust Sariphir.

The fighters split, four banking west, five banking east.

Keep formation, Vorthines ordered. They are attempting to divide us.

The flight obeyed, though Sariphir — and everyone else, Audwin imagined — followed the fighters with an eye. Audwin kept his hand on his phase pistol. The fighters passed them, then turned about, settling in behind them. Audwin glanced ahead. The fighters still over the colony had fallen back to the sea and were joining in a second formation, coming around again to engage them.

“Big mistake,” Audwin said. “They're herding us into a trap.”

The Human is correct, Vorthines said. <i>Sariphir, Rigphorling, continue to the colony and learn what you can of the enemy’s strength. The rest of us will continue west and possibly draw some of the flyers away from your tails.

We will catch up with you,[/i] Sariphir said as the other queen settled along side her. They beat their wings and moved to the front of the flight.

Attempt we will to divide the enemy flight on our tail. Rithkores, your wing will bank east; mine will bank west. Break!

The flight divided. Five banked one direction, the other five banked the opposite direction. Meanwhile, Rigphorling and Sariphir, with Audwin on her shoulders, continued toward the colony and the fighters holding position over the sea. What were they waiting for? Behind him, Audwin heard the booms of laser cannons discharging. Many of the blasts shot passed them. An explosion. A fighter had taken a fireball. A painful shriek. A Draconian had been hit.

Audwin fought the urge to look behind him and kept his eyes forward. They were nearly upon the colony now, and the fighters hovering over the sea started toward them. Trusting that the queens would keep an eye on the fighters, Audwin surveyed the colony below. His heart sank at the fresh damage suffered under Norseen fire. They would have to rebuild the Administration Building a second time. An infiltrator rested in Landing Field, nose pointing west toward the colony's remaining shuttle, and a Norseen shuttle between the agricultural fields and the slope that led down to the sea. He noted the infiltrator’s port wings. The forward wing damaged by an energy weapon, the rear wing damaged by Draconian fire. Norseen technicians were already at work, but it would be a while before the ship could fly again.

Sariphir hissed. Audwin followed her gaze to the fields on the other side of the river. He gasped. Valthes and Vithglen lay there, sedated he hoped, with Norseen in blue and turquoise gathered around their heads. Additional Norseen dressed in turquoise treated laser burns on the kings' backs. He was grateful for that, at least.

But, where was Sarkiphing?

They are alive still, Rigphorling confirmed.

“They don’t have much time, though,” Audwin told them. “Looks like the Norseen have begun their experiments on them.”

Experiments?

Before Audwin could explain, Sariphir alerted them to movement on the ground. Norseen soldiers gathered in Landing Field, weapons in their hands. “Time to go,” he told the queens. Even as the words left his mouth, they were already banking west. The soldiers shot their weapons. A barrage of bluish pulses flew around them.

A pair of laser bolts streamed across their path. Sariphir dropped under them just as Audwin caught a glimpse of a fireball flying toward the fighter, now banking over the cliff summit. The fighter exploded, and a burnt hulk fell to the ground atop what used to be Kiyoshi's home. As soon as Sariphir leveled out again, Audwin pulled his phase pistol on the soldiers. He managed to score several hits before a pulse caught Sariphir in the chest. The queen screamed and went rigid as the electrical charge passed through her body. The charge passed to Audwin, and he cried out with her. Then, the world went dark.

*

Genisa walked eastward along the shore north of the forest, listening to the constant hum of the Norseen fighters flying over their colony. Her arms crossed, glowering eyes on the sand. She had left Buck and the others with the weapons — the weapons and equipment that were stolen from the Earth Union and their Malcon allies.

“You can tell your husband the governor after we save him,” Buck had rebuked her sarcastically.

Buck did have a point, she had to admit. It was only with such weapons and equipment that they would be able to retake their colony. But, there was still something about it she didn’t like.

She lifted her eyes to find herself passing the scorched remains of the pier. The first structure that had been destroyed in the dragon attack a week ago. Then, she saw the body. A dragon — a queen, by the lack of cranial horns — laying a few meters from the pier. Was that Sarkiphing?

Waves crashed against the shore and rolled up around her. Her tail twitched. She was alive!

Genisa rushed to the dragon’s head. She knelt and held a hand over the queen’s nostrils. She smiled her relief as she felt the dragon’s warm breath.

She rubbed the snout. “Sarkiphing? Sarkiphing.”

The hum of a Norseen fighter steadily became louder, growing louder each second, accompanying another sound — wings flapping. Genisa looked up to see another dragon appear over the trees with a Norseen fighter on her tail. She reached for her com-link.

“Buck! Buck! Come in!”

“What?”

“Shoot down that fighter!”

“That would draw the Norseen’s attention to us.”

“We need the dragon’s attention! Do it, now!”

A solid beam of energy shot up from the forest. It missed. A second beam followed, scoring a hit on the right wing engine. The fighter spun toward the ground. The queen wheeled and spat a fireball at whatever remained of the fighter. She beat her wings and continued toward Genisa.

Genisa waved for attention. The queen started her descent.

You are from the colony?

“Yes. Genisa Takamura. A group of us are hiding in the forest.”

Genisa squinted against the sand the queen's wings blew as she alighted. She held an eye on the wounded dragon. Rigphorling. Was it against the Norseen that that queen was wounded?

“Yes. Can you reach her?”

I can try. What is her name?

“Sarkiphing.”

Rigphorling focused both eyes, then looked behind her at the sound of rapid, muffled footfalls. Genisa looked passed her to see Buck and two other men running to join them, each carrying a rifle in their hands. Genisa assured the queen that all was well, and Rigphorling returned her attention to Sarkiphing. “We’ll be fortunate if the Norseen don’t send a squadron to wipe us out now,” Buck said.

“Fortunately, we, too, have air support now.”

“We've two dragons. One of them half dead.”

Rustling drew Genisa’s attention back to Sarkiphing. Her wings shuffled, and she clenched and unclenched her talons. Her eyes opened to mere slits.

Genisa? Genisa Takamura? Her thought-voice was weak and strained. She obviously spoke with a great amount of effort.

“It’s me. I’m relieved you’re still alive.”

As I am — you as much as myself. I do wish, though, that through a fight I could go without getting shot down. Did we lose the colony?

Genisa nodded. “The Norseen have the colony.”

They have also three Draconians captive, but only temporary,</i> Rigphorling said. <i>My flight will join with a flight from West Sun Range. Together we will drive away the intruders.

“We — Draconians and Humans,” Genisa added, her attention settling on Buck. He exchanged looks with the other two before, reluctantly, nodding his agreement. She turned back to the dragons. “We will await your roar and time our attack with yours.”

“We're headed for Pocket Cove,” Buck said. “You may find us there.”

Pocket Cove?

“It's a cove sheltered in a large cave,” Genisa explained. “Several smaller caves open off of it. It should be easy to find if you fly along this coast.”

Rigphorling acknowledged with a dip of her head. I will inform my wingleader.
"What has been done has been done and cannot be undone."--Ruth, All the Weyrs of Pern
"Dragons can't change who they are, and who would want them to? Dragons are powerful, amazing creatures."--Hiccup, Dragons: Riders of Berk
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