Dragonsblood

NINETEEN

Tieran spotted M’hall and Brianth circling through the clouds above and sent Grenn up to them.

“Tell them it’s safe, but to land at a distance,” Tieran told his fire-lizard. Grenn gave him a chirp to show that he understood and flew on up to the huge bronze dragon.

Moments later, Brianth landed, cautiously far from the still-smoldering remains of the young queen, and M’hall approached on foot. The Benden Weyrleader’s jaw was set, and his eyes bleak.

“Did Wind Blossom order this?” he asked Tieran as he neared.

“Yes,” Tieran said. “The queen fell from the sky and was dead either from the impact or before that.”

M’hall peered closely at the remains. “It seems small for a queen. Are you sure it wasn’t a green?”

“It was a queen,” Tieran replied firmly. “Not just from the color but there”-he pointed at the blackened skull-“you can see from the shape of the skull and the teeth that it’s a young dragon, months old, probably less than six-”

“Less than six?” M’hall was amazed. “And that big? A six-month-old queen shouldn’t be that big.”

“But it was,” Tieran replied. “That would be about the size expected at about the thirtieth generation, or so.”

“The thirtieth generation?” M’hall repeated, amazed. “How would you know?”

Tieran shrugged. “Wind Blossom explained it,” he said. “There were limits on the original work they had done and they knew that the first generations would be smaller than the final generations. That,” he added, pointing to the skeleton, “is close to as large as they get, though.”

“Where is its rider?” M’hall asking, looking around for another burn circle.

“There was no rider,” Tieran told him.

“Could it have been an accident? A queen so young going between?” M’hall asked in vain hope.

Tieran shook his head. “I don’t know,” he answered. “But if it did, then it was sick with what looked to be the same thing this one-” He reached up to stroke Grenn, who had perched again on his shoulder, reassuringly. “-was ill with.

“Thirty generations would be over four hundred years from now,” he added.

M’hall whistled in awe. “You’re saying that this dragon and your fire-lizard come from four hundred years in the future?”

Tieran nodded, opening his hand. “I pulled this off the dragon’s riding harness.”

M’hall gave Tieran a questioning look and, at the young man’s nod, picked up the small object and peered at it intently.

“That’s the Benden Weyr mark,” he said instantly, pointing at a small section on the silver oblong. “Those other marks look like”-he glanced up incredulously at Tieran-“the same ones on your friend’s beadwork! Animal healer.”

“That’s what I thought,” Tieran agreed.

To his surprise, Tieran did not find himself on duty escorting all the various craftmasters, Holders, and Weyrleaders past the newly-raised mound that marked the queen dragon’s final resting place and on into the College’s Dining Room, hastily rearranged as a meeting place. Instead, he found himself bustling back and forth between Wind Blossom, Emorra, and Janir, carrying notes, bearing messages, and generally being run off his feet.

The undercurrents in the room were deep and numerous. Just from his own hearing, he knew that the Lord Holders not only warred with themselves over the disposition of Colony resources but also had numerous issues of trade to resolve. The Weyrleaders seemed united, if somewhat restless, willing to follow M’hall’s direction.

But the real issue was Wind Blossom’s. Those who hadn’t actually seen the dragon’s burnt skeleton were dubious of the claim, although not quite willing to voice out loud their lack of faith in Wind Blossom’s reasoning or abilities.

It promised to be an interesting and perhaps contentious session. Tieran caught a whiff of the snacks Moira and Alandro were baking and was surprised when his stomach gave a disgusted heave. Apparently this interesting session meant more to him than he was willing to admit.

The tables of the Dining Room had been arranged in a large oval. Emorra and the other collegians were gathered at the end nearest the kitchen. Opposite them were the Weyrleaders. In between, on the left and on the right, were the leaders of the Holds.

Tieran was surprised when the first person to speak was Emorra.

“Does everyone have a copy of the agenda?” she asked. Hearing no dissent, she continued. “Very well, I propose we start with the first item: the issue of the queen dragon and Wind Blossom’s findings-”

“It seemed awfully small to be a queen,” Lord Kenner of Telgar noted quaveringly, glancing around the room nervously, his beak-like nose bobbing this way and that.

“That’s because it was an immature dragon,” Tieran responded. “Judging by its teeth, it was under six months old, probably as little as two.”

“And you agree with this assessment?” Mendin asked, looking pointedly at M’hall.

M’hall nodded. “Yes.”

Mendin turned back to Tieran and nodded for him to continue. Tieran looked at Emorra and raised an eyebrow.

Emorra continued. “It is our opinion-”

“Whose?” Mendin demanded challengingly.

“The medical staff and faculty at this College,” she replied testily. “Kindly let me continue uninterrupted.”

Mendin looked ready to argue the point but desisted after catching sight of M’hall’s glare.

“It is our opinion that the queen dragon was a hatchling from somewhere between the thirtieth and fortieth generation,” Emorra said. The Lord Holders gave her blank stares, while the Weyrleaders who hadn’t heard this before all sat bolt upright in their chairs.

“Emorra, could you tell us what dragon generation we are at now?” Malon of Tillek asked courteously.

“The newest generation is the sixth generation,” Emorra answered.

“So the dragon came from the future,” K’nel of Ista said.

“How can dragons travel through time?” Kenner asked.

“It is a property of their ability to teleport,” Wind Blossom replied. “Any movement through space implies a movement through time.”

Kenner looked politely confused.

“Space and time are the same,” M’hall expanded, taking pity on the old Holder. “We’ve done it.”

“You have?” Mendin blurted.

“Yes,” L’can, High Reaches Weyrleader confirmed. “It is quite draining on the rider, though.”

“We estimate that the dragon came from more than four hundred years in the future,” Emorra told the group.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Mendin declared. “We’ve got nothing to worry about, then.” He looked expectantly around the room. “So what’s the next item on the agenda?”

“I don’t think we should move on so quickly,” M’hall replied. He turned to Emorra. “Is there any danger to our dragons?”

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “The young queen was immediately bathed in acid, so all microorganisms should have been destroyed.”

“What about that fire-lizard?” Mendin asked, pointing at the brown fire-lizard curled on Tieran’s shoulder.

“I would not have released the fire-lizard from quarantine had I considered it still a possible source of contagion,” Wind Blossom spoke up from behind her daughter. She met Mendin’s eyes squarely. “The fate of all Pern is at stake.”

“Is?” Mendin repeated. “I thought you said the fire-lizard isn’t a threat?”

“We don’t know why the fire-lizard or the queen dragon found their way back to us,” Emorra replied. “They both appear to have come from about the same time, and there are indications that they had the same human partner.”

“And that the partner was a rider at Benden Weyr,” M’hall added.

“Somewhere in the future, dragons are dying,” L’can marveled mournfully.

“But that’s not an issue for us!” Mendin declared. “I’m sorry to hear about it, but we have issues we need to deal with today.”

“And this is one of them,” Emorra declared fiercely. “Twice now we’ve been lucky.” She nodded toward M’hall and the Weyrleaders. “Every Weyr is now on guard against any other dragons falling out of the future, but it just takes one and the illness could spread here.”

“No, it can’t,” Tieran said to himself. He flushed as the others all looked at him. He shrugged. “If the illness spreads here, then there will be no dragons from the future.”

“Could you explain?” M’hall asked, gesturing invitingly.

“If the illness comes back in time,” Tieran replied, “there are two possibilities-either all the dragons will succumb and there will be no more dragons in the future, or the dragons will get better and pass their immunity on, so there will be no sick dragons in the future.”

“I’m afraid there is a third possibility,” Wind Blossom said. Everyone turned to her. “It is possible that the queen from the future is a modified watch-wher.”

“What?” Mendin shouted. “A watch-wher?”

“I have only completed some preliminary evaluations,” she continued unperturbedly, “but I have noticed signs of genetic manipulation in the queen’s genetic code.”

“But if our descendants could manipulate genetic material, wouldn’t they be able to cure this illness in the future?” Mendin asked.

“You are supposing that detailed knowledge of genetics, particularly Pernese genetics, and the tools to manipulate Pernese genetic code would be available four centuries from now,” Emorra said. She turned to him. “Tell me, Lord Mendin, how many base-pairs are there in the Pernese genetic code?”

“Why would I need to know that?” Mendin spluttered indignantly.

“Precisely,” Emorra replied. “Why would anyone need to know that four hundred years in the future?”

Mendin waved a hand to the Weyrleaders. “Perhaps they would know it.”

“I don’t know it now,” M’hall confessed. He glanced at the other Weyrleaders, who also professed ignorance. “I am more concerned with fighting Thread and maintaining a Weyr than the genetic code of the dragons.” He glanced at Emorra. “It would seem that the College would retain this knowledge.”

Emorra shook her head. “I doubt it, Weyrleader,” she said. “Even now there are only three people in this room who can answer my question: myself, my mother, and Tieran.”

“What about Janir, surely he knows this!” Mendin objected.

Janir shook his head. “I know a little about terrestrial genetics, but I specialize in human medicine.”

“Statistically, if only three people know something now,” Emorra said, “then there is a very high likelihood that that knowledge will not survive into the next generation, let alone four centuries from now.”

“So the dragon from the future can’t be genetically modified,” Mendin declared. He sat back in his chair and looked around at the other Lord Holders triumphantly.

“That is not necessarily so,” Emorra replied.

“How so?” Mendin demanded, sitting upright once more.

“It is possible,” Wind Blossom began, then paused, looking at Emorra for her consent. “It is possible that the genetic modifications were provided by one of us and not used until this future time.”

M’hall made a thoughtful face. “Are you suggesting that we dragonriders bring one of you forward in time four centuries?”

“Is that even possible?” Mendin murmured.

“It is possible,” Wind Blossom conceded with a nod. Then she turned her gaze to M’hall and the Weyrleaders. “I don’t think it is advisable.”

M’hall gestured for her to enlighten them.

“You have observed that there is a great deal of physical stress associated with traveling between, particularly between times. I do not think that I could handle such a prolonged strain,” Wind Blossom said. She glanced apologetically at Emorra and Tieran before adding, “And while I don’t doubt their efforts, I believe that neither Tieran nor Emorra would be up to the scientific challenge.”

She paused to give Tieran and Emorra a chance to demur. When they remained silent, she went on. “Also, there is the fact that the equipment and knowledge base we need are here, now, at the College and may not be available four centuries in the future.”

M’hall stroked his chin, nodding. “Even with what the dragons could carry, I imagine there could always be one important thing that would be left behind.”

“And it would be a one-way trip,” Tieran pointed out. The others looked at him. “We couldn’t risk accidentally bringing the illness back in time with us.”

Mendin threw up his hands, leaning forward again in his chair. “So it’s impossible, then.” Tieran turned to Mendin and the other Holders. “I think we should move on to the next agenda item-the disposition of the remaining stonecutters.”

“I believe that I have the agenda,” Emorra said blandly. Mendin flushed and then gestured angrily at her to proceed.

“The fact remains that there are signs of genetic manipulation,” Wind Blossom spoke out. “If we believe that our descendants could not have done this unaided, and we agree that we cannot journey forward in time to aid them, then it is clear that we must choose-must, indeed, have already chosen-a third course.”

Mendin glared at the old geneticist and only brought his emotions under control by firm exertion of will. “With all due respect,” he said, though none could be heard in his tone, “did you not say that your results were preliminary?”

Wind Blossom nodded.

“And you conducted these tests yourself?”

Again, Wind Blossom nodded.

“It is a fact that you are the oldest person now living on Pern,” Mendin noted. “Could it be possible that you were mistaken?”

Roland, Southern Boll’s Lord Holder, who had been puzzling something silently, suddenly piped up, “How did you figure this out? I thought we’d lost all our technology!”

“We did,” Wind Blossom agreed. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as though recollection pained her. “Many of our finest instruments were lost in a storm when we crossed from Landing.” She looked directly at Mendin. “Including most of the equipment specifically tuned to manipulate Pernese genetic code.” She glanced over at Malon and M’hall. “It was only after the quarantine of the fire-lizards that a chance comment by M’hall caused me to wonder if some of the equipment might have survived.”

The other Lord Holders exchanged surprised looks.

“I was lucky enough to retrieve some useful equipment off the shores of Tillek Hold,” Wind Blossom continued.

“And power packs, too?” Mendin asked, mentally upping the amount of stonecutting he could do.

Wind Blossom shook her head. “These units all have their own internal, nonremovable power supplies. They are all highly-specialized equipment of Eridani origin.”

Janir cleared his throat and asked in a small voice, “Could this equipment have helped us in the Fever Year?”

Wind Blossom pursed her lips and shook her head sadly. “It was only tuned to the Pernese genetic code,” she told him. “We used it to help us design the dragons.”

“But that leaves us no nearer to solving your conundrum,” Mendin said.

“I do not agree,” Wind Blossom said. “I believe that we have evidence not only that we will do something but exactly what we will do.”

“And that would be?” Roland asked.

“It is clear to me that we must come up with a way to preserve our equipment and knowledge in such a way as to help our descendants,” she replied.

“You would have to not only provide them with the equipment but teach them how to use it,” Mendin declared angrily.

“That is what we at the College are supposed to do,” Emorra replied evenly.