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The Story of Secrets

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The middle-aged Weyrwoman stood there, pacing back and forth. It was an odd occurrence. Something was definitely different in the air. It was stale. Something was wrong. Or maybe right. Even through all her turns as a leader among the dragon kind, she couldn't put her finger on the disturbance.

Naomith? What is it? Please tell me if you know, darling, it doesn't feel like it did a couple sevendays ago.. Falora pleads quietly with her gold. 

The great golden beast seems to smile down at her rider, Falora, there have been many jumps. Betweening. Those from the future have backtracked, and those from the past have gone to the future. I believe it will cause problems with the genetics if it continues much longer.. not between the dragons, but the riders will be tired and all will be very closely related..

The Weyrwoman stands there dumbfounded. She turns to her weyrmate, "Den..?" using his nickname before he Impressed, "Do you feel it?" 

The tall Weyrleader is reclining comfortably in a soft chair, staring into space, the same look one gets when they bespeak their dragons. The Weyrwoman waits patiently as the man turns to her, "I do, so does Treyath. Naomith knows what it is, doesn't she? Treyath does too." He never sounded uncertain, one of the things the Weyrwoman loved about her constant weyrmate. His tone was factual and wondering, as if this was all a big game to him, and surprisingly, this made her all the more comfortable about what 'it' happened to be. Broad shouldered, square-jawed, dark-haired handsome man, half a decade her senior. He was aging, though, as well as she, and the black hair along his head was starting to gray above his ears. Just enough for the Weyrwoman to notice.

She smiles, "Yes, she does. I can't believe it's happening, life will most assuredly be different."

"The Pass is ending, we'll carry out our leadership into the last Thread to Fall, but what of us after that?" the Weyrleader looks up at his Weyrwoman, "We can't very well continue the way we have, and the queen's will lay less.. but it's strange, I have a feeling something is going to happen." He stares back into space again, and Falora sits down on the end of the bed across from her spouse.

The bronze beast behind the hulking figure of the lithe queen raises his magnificent wedge-shaped head and bugles triumphantly, a note of challenge. Naomith returns this challenge, as do all of the adult queens and their respective mates. Into the room runs all of the ranking adult queenriders of the dragons bugling their challenges to their mates. "Falora! What in Faranth's name is going on?!" Alliana, Falora's younger sister nearly screams; worried, concerned, and very much scared. Everyone, especially queenriders, knew what the dragons were doing, they were preparing to fly, and the queens couldn't fly together, because they'd kill each other. 

The Weyrwoman smiles and turns to Ninaevai, "Please explain my dear perceptive woman," Falora winks at the rider, who heard all dragons. Ninaevai grins broadly, and looks at the other queenriders, "Galamoth assures me that she will not attack anyone, nor will anyone else attack their fellow queens. They are flying for their mates, and like Treyath to Naomith, only their mates shall fly them, so they won't be competitive." She shrugs, grinning, "They've no need to fight for their mates and they're aged enough to not care about other queens."

Liliana now takes a turn to whisper in worried and faint tones, "But, but.. Isabeth isn't attached to anyone! She hadn't even flown since Jerdan disbanded! She was depressed, and, she hasn't a mate her at Talor Cliff, and we've been here for turns! Sh-she might attack one of your dragons!" Her last note ends in a wailing pitch, not wanting to lose her dragon, or cause the loss of anothers' bond.

At that moment the group of young men, and several extra riders, pile into the room. Most of the riders make up the mass of ranking leaders of the wings of Talor Cliff. The Weyrleader grins at them, as M'leor, renowned flirt and ladies-man grins at the goldriders, "Your queens called?" devilish good looks causing his mate to eye him warily, as if he'd suddenly regressed into bad habits. He smirks and folds his hands behind his back, still looking very much proud of himself and his bronze.

As Pheania comforts Liliana, and keeps her from fainting from the stress, the Weyrwoman turns to Jucai. Of all the riders, besides herself, the strongest of mind was Jucai. The girl had been a hunter prior to her Searching by Dawn Sisters, and had been claimed by a head-strong queen. "Jucai, make sure that Kila and Narsh know about this, and that the herdbeasts are sent out in adequate time." Falora nods, referring to the Headwoman's recently acquired fralamaraz. The Weyrwoman 3rd nods to affirm her orders and practically flies out of the room, her reflexes just as sharp as when they had been before her Impression.

Falora turns to Liliana and stares at the nearly delirious young woman, thinking for a moment. She turns to the young men all gathered, and the one not standing near or beside their weyrmates, she states, "Alright, get your dragons to impress Liliana's Isabeth. She'll fly first, and she'll be caught first, so there are no accidents." She turns to the other goldriders, "Hold back your queen's from flying, and make sure they realize that their mates are not up in the clouds with Isabeth." She turns back to the bronze and brownriders, "Keep your dragons right in front of the queen's they're mated to, in case physical restraint is needed. Naomith and I will help out with any stragglers."

The Weyrwoman takes a huge breath, to calm her own nerves at this most unusual happening, and turns to her weyrmate who had long since been standing beside her. She allows him to take her into his arms, and the two stand there as everyone just breathes.

The collective Weyr had been holding it's breath, and the you-could-hear-a-pin-drop silence is shattered as Liliana can't stand it any longer, and runs from the room to follow her gold's desires. The Weyrwoman turns around in D'ten's arms and looks at the other goldriders still in attendance in the Weyrleader's large quarters, "Keep them still." is spoken softly but sternly. She looks to Ninaevai, "I know you've got your own dragon to keep still, but Galamoth is a rather biddable dragon, and she won't rise if Janioth is kept on the ground, take your efforts from her and to any of the more antsy queens, please, Naomith will help you."

A loud draconic scream from outside alerts the already knowing queenriders to Isabeth's second flight in a long time. Murmurings of praise and encouragement are given aloud by the queenriders to each other and their dragons, both for staying alert during this very tense time and by staying on the ground, and in the same vicinity as the risen Isabeth. 

A while later, one young man darts from the room, and Falora looks up at D'ten, who grins back at her. 

"She's been caught," Ninaevai announces with a broad grin, "Selith."

"Good." replies the Weyrwoman with a weary sigh, "Let them go." she smiles.

Six golds take flight, no blooding is done, which is rather odd for the golds. Their mates take swift flight after them, and during nearly a full two hours of flying, each queen drops off in their own time, captured by their mates. Soranth is captured by M'leor's Urionth, Pheania and V'det are again together by Gilith and Gredenth's pairing, Galamoth is caught a second time by brown Janioth, a large and hearty brown who didn't let a single bronze near his golden beauty, Jucai and G'nor still entwined, as their dragons, Lazireth and Aharuth, likewise, Kyradith and Reniteth fall gracefully from the sky as Senna and E'lin accompany each other to their bed. And finally, after the longest of the flights, the senior queen is predictably captured by the only one fit to fly her, the aging hulk of the honey-colored bronze, Treyath.

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Two Months Later

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"Well, well, well.." Falora whispers, amazed. "What are we going to do? It's a good thing the Talor Cliff sands are so sharding big.."

Seven golds surrounded by their respective clutches, each one buried so only about four eggs of each clutch showed above the sand. "There's no way to count them all.." Pheania smirks. Liliana nods, taking a seat, "This is very strange, indeed." Senna turns her head to look at the Weyrwoman, "Why did they do this? I mean, this has never happened before, save Baeris's Frenzies on the northern continent. But.. so many queens! Why on Pern would they just up and rise like that?"

All eyes seem to lay waiting on the Weyrwoman's answer, and Falora smiles. "The world is changing.. I know Ninaevai feels it, and the more perceptive dragons can feel it."

Eyebrows raise, breaths and hearts skip beats as they goldriders take in this vague information. "Changing..?" Alliana asks her older sister, "Just what's changing?"

"There are many people betweening great spaces. Spaces in distance and time. Pernese are coming forward and going backward in time, and others, are coming from other planets." Falora looks to her riders, their silence urging her to continue with the information that has been given. "Parallel dimensions, and wormholes, and time-lapses.." the Weyrwoman's faces scrunches up at the words only recently familiarized to her. "We've had visitors. I've had our Searchriders out making sure that all newcomers were brought here, as well as notifying the willing Weyrleaders. Some Weyrleaders are stubborn and want nothing to do with the changes. They'd rather think it doesn't even exist and live their lives the way they wish. Others embrace the newcomers like we do and they're working with us."

"One of the main newcomers are visitors from Pern, in the past and the future, and they have the technology to change the chemical structure of things.." Falora shakes her head again, "I remember reading about such things on the print-outs from the long gone computers, but I didn't know it could actually be done."

She looks at each goldrider in turn, "Which is why I'm asking you now to let them tamper with your queen's eggs." Apprehension suddenly fills the room, and the senses of all in it. Queens balked at the idea of their eggs touched, along with their riders. It took Galamoth and Naomith to bear their weight down on them all to keep a riot down. The goldriders shift their weight from foot-to-foot if standing, and shift their seating in their chairs, if sitting. Never had their eyes left the Weyrwoman, who stood looking at the sky.

Falora then speaks again, "The change would not kill or harm your dragon's eggs, and it must be done soon. Inside the eggs the changes, as I'm told, are going on, the molecular structures deciding through genetics what color and gender the dragonet will end up. They want to change the genetics to see how many colors we can get."

"But, why do any of this?" Senna speaks up, "The gen.. gen.. gen-whatever you said, has worked fine. It's created few queens so they don't fight, and an even number of dragon colors all around. Why change any of it?"

Falora smiles faintly, "As I said, the world is changing, it's all very odd and weird, and some dragons will leave this world for others. They'll leave this time frame for the past and the future. The color part of the genetics will help us determine just what we can do with the eggs. Then, when we need it, we can create mass supplies of greens, or golds, or even bronzes." Falora looks at Jucai, "You remember, your family was recently sick, correct? I remember you leaving for a few months with Lazireth to care for them last turn."

Jucai nods slowly. Falora continues, "Well what if we all get sick one way or another? What is there is a plague? I did some research on the old print outs, and old Terra; the ancients referred to it as 'Earth', had several plagues, where many times a lot of the population was killed off by it."

"But everyone knows dragonriders are healthy! What does sickness have anything to do with tampering with our queen's eggs?" Pheania asks, doubtful, to say the least.

The Weyrwoman nods, "I agree. The dragons and dragonriders alike are a healthy breed of people. But we're not invincible. We WILL die one day, be it in battle, or by old age. We do get sick, we get sick from betweening, we get sick from southern continent plants and insects because we haven't lived there. Should an epidemic wipe out some of the dragonriders, that means their dragons go too." Falora's argument on this issue starts to hit home with her riders by this point. "What if the only females left alive on this planet are the greens? Greens who don't chew can lay eggs. But what do they lay?"

She lets the question sink into her riders head before continuing, her tone softer than before, "They lay up to their mate's color. But never queens. Rarely bronzes. With this genetic tampering I've been told about, greens could very well lay queens, after the egg has hit the sands, the genetic material can be altered and when that egg hatches a gold or bronze can come out. It would still carry the genetics of it's parents, it's color and own possibilities of laying other golds, however, would be added." she smiles, "In essence, a green could very well lay a gold. By even a blue mate. Wouldn't that spread about the planet like wildfire?"

Jucai grins, and a couple others giggle. Jucai smiles at the Weyrwoman, "Lazireth is willing to let them experiment with her eggs." Senna nods, smiling as well, "And Kyradith." Ninaevai grins at Jucai, "Galamoth isn't saying no." Pheania, Liliana and Alliana look at one another, the trio quite close. Alliana nods at her sister, "We're all willing."

The Weyrwoman nods, grinning at her riders, "Thank you ladies. You all may very well change the course of history. If the rest of the world will accept it, of course."

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"Nora, are you and J'gen and Beka ready?" The Weyrwoman looks at her closest friend and confidant. 

The black-haired Head Searchrider grins, "Of course. We'll be sure to keep our Searching discrete. I'm sure only the other Weyrs know, after all, if Pern can do what these newcomers have been doing, and leap to other worlds and whatnot, everyone would want to do that." she chuckles, "I can sure name some people who would rather die than say the dragonriders aren't all-knowing and all-mighty." 

J'gen, squeezing Beka's shoulders affectionately smirks, "I know, most people treat us as gods or devils. Depending on where they were raised and the story-telling done by harpers. I will never anger a harper again. Maybe." Beka elbows her newly acquired weyrmate playfully, "Knock it off. I know you antagonize them whenever possible. You and Helventh like to exert your power and make them squirm because of their rank." J'gen laughs, "Maybe."

Falora chuckles, "Well you three, please keep safe. Travel together, alright? Nora, you and blue Mitanth are to make sure that J'gen doesn't antagonize anyone. Too much." The Weyrwoman winks. "Beka, you and green Reth keep Helventh occupied while Mitanth is holding down J'gen should he get into any fights. AND," Falora points at the three before her, "don't be afraid to exert your power. If any of you feel anything, take them along. Especially newcomers. We'll need all the odd people we can find for this mass clutch."

"Kept secret?" Beka asks. Falora nods, "If you don't have to, keep the clutch's details to yourself, until they're in Talor Cliff air- or land-space. Once we get them, they aren't going anywhere. I won't be responsible for the Weyrleaders across the planet flaming down my neck." She sighs.

J'gen grins, "You know that we'd all fight with you, Falora. Don't worry. D'ten's already out smoothing ruffled 'leader feathers, and we'll just go covert and pluck out the good ones." he grins. "Any set number we're looking for?"

The Weyrwoman shakes her head, "Not that I know of. The queens aren't telling, and neither are the geneticists."

"Alright then. Lets go nab some candidates!" Nora grins.

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And here are those that have signed in:
Current Candidate Number: 78

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Snow.

The mountain was covered in it. Not just the peaks of the neighboring mountains had snow now, the whole Weyr was blanketed in it. A land of white, that was normally brown and green, seemed strange to any new comers. Those that were residents were used to it, and welcomed the cold weather. Thread wasn't scheduled to Fall in the Weyr's range for days, giving the dragonriders a well-deserved rest.

Now that there was no Thread to keep themselves occupied, snow fights became the new battle. Dragonriders as well as residents, candidates, and visitors played in the snow, wreaking havoc on minds that wished for peace rather than the laughter and frigid cold that reigned supreme outside.

Over the months that the clutch hardened, new visitors came to live at the Weyr, as well as other Weyrs that, too, welcomed the strangeness of them. So when the large batch of candidates trickled in and settled into the life of a candidate, they were welcomed and accepted by most.

Falora had been ready for the snow, getting out her winter wardrobe for washing well before it was needed, so it would be ready when it was. The middle-aged Weyrwoman now had fleece leggings underneath her brown wher hide floor-length skirt. She had on at least two sweaters, the outer sweater white, ribbed and long necked, so it rolled pleasantly under her chin, and then a brown wher hide jacket over that. The hide, thank Faranth, kept the warmth in, and the cold out, so she was very comfortable in this weather. Her gloves and boots were her dragonriding ones, built to withstand the dank nothingness of between, so a little winter couldn't very well harm them, or damper their effectiveness.

Most others were similarly clad, especially the ones playing outside. Some weyrbrats who had played outside without proper gear had fallen into sickness. Normal head colds which left them miserable, but not that much worse for the wear. They had been confined to the infirmary quarters well near the warm bowl of the sands, where they could warm up and get healthy.

The Weyrwoman wanders down the wide and long stone steps from her weyr to the sands. The sands were warm, but not nearly as stifling as in summer. So most of the Weyr visited the sands quite often for both purposes of looking upon the eggs and seven queens and warming themselves up. 

Striding across the sands, and gingerly stepping around a sleeping Gilith and Soranth, Falora heads towards her gold, who merely open a lidded whirling eye to gaze serenely upon her rider. 

It was a wonder to most that the queens hadn't killed each other, or at least, attempted to. But then, with the fact of their rather calm flight, it wasn't that much of a surprise to many.

"So how are they, dear heart?" Falora smiles at her queen.

The golden dragon declines lifting her head. She didn't need to tower over her rider. Plus that, since the sun couldn't peek in on them, their 'sunning' had to be done keeping their bellies to the sand to preserve heat. They're hard. is the sarcastic reply.

The Weyrwoman grins, "I know that, that's why I've come to check."

Well they won't be doing anything anytime soon. I wouldn't doubt they'll even wait until after Turns End.

Falora shifts her weight, "But it's been a long time.."

I think those stupid scientists of yours botched up my eggs. You know they'll be my last, so if even one of my babies comes out deformed I'm going to be the first dragon to eat a human. Her tone was calm, but the threat was clear. Not even Falora would be able to stop her from the revenge she'd planned.

Falora merely nods and turns to walk away. Another day wasted. Well.. I guess I can go and watch the people play.

Don't worry, I'll call you if they do anything. Naomith assures her rider.

Thank you. Falora replies with a mental smile.

As she walks down the hallway, intent on finding Kila for a little chat, catch up on the news of the lower caverns, young Zach runs up and nearly slides into her in his haste. "Weyrwoman! Weyrwoman!" Well, to the Weyrwoman he was young. He had to be in his early twenties.

Falora looks at him and smiles kindly, "Would you please just call me Falora?"

He looks a little uncomfortable at her insistence, but nods a little numb. "O-okay.. Falora. Weyrwoman." he adds. The Weyrwoman just smiles. "What do you have to tell me?" she asks, interested. He usually stayed to himself. He was one of the geneticists that worked on the eggs. She'd be very sad to see him eaten should Naomith live up to her promise; he was a sweet boy and very intelligent with all this technology.

Zach smiles, "The eggs are just about ready to hatch!"

The Weyrwoman blinks, "But I just visited Naomith.. she said-" "I know, or.. at least I have an idea. The eggs will be hatching. All are expected to hatch, too, there might just be a little difficulty with the hatchlings getting out of the shells. So you'll have to instruct your candidates to feel free to give the eggs a little tap. Even the mothers couldn't hurt them if they wanted to help."

Falora chuckles, "I know, they're a lot harder then they usually are. Bigger, too."

He nods, "That's all due to the.. uh.." he tries to find a way to explain. Spitting out a bunch of scientific jargon in the poor woman's face wouldn't help her understand, only confuse her. This world was definitely different from his own. "..well, what we did to them. For it to work they had to have extra time to develop because they would develop slower than usual, so now the eggs are really hard. But they're ready to hatch, fully developed and everything. Trust me, nothing could go wrong." he's grinning proudly by the end of his speech.

Falora grins with the wisdom gained over nearly three decades of being the Weyrwoman, "Trust me, something always will." she winks and turns away from him, leaving him there to ponder her statement while she goes off to gather those to find all the candidates.

Spotting a weyrbrat, out of her assigned sick bed and looking ready to steal Kila's latest delicacy, Falora sneaks up on her. Touching the girl's shoulder as the ten-year-old gets a hand on the pie's platter, Falora raises an eyebrow in mock authority, "What do you think you're doing?"

The girl snatches her hand back and whips around, having recognized the voice before seeing the face, "Falora! I.. I.. uh.. I.."

The Weyrwoman grins, "Never mind that. I'll convince Kila to let you have a piece.. a legitimate piece, instead of stolen, if you do something for me."

"Sure!" Thessa grins broadly.

"Go gather all the candidates, and tell them to find one another, and then come to the lower caverns. If they look at you funny, and give you any back-talk tell them the Weyrwoman sent you." Falora smiles and pauses a moment, "Take Talion with you as proof." Thinking his name, the darkly shaded little blue fire-lizard blinks from between, to fly around Falora's head. As he lands on her shoulder, the Weyrwoman picks him up and sets him on little Thessa's shoulder.

Thessa grins, stroking the blue absently, then looks up at the Weyrwoman, "I'll be back soon!" before taking off. Falora grins, and true to her word, take the pie from the cooling rank and sets it aside where it would stay untouched, waiting for Thessa to return.

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An hour later nearly all the candidates had been called, and the last few were trickling into the lower caverns large dining cavern. The tables had been arranged so that nearly twice as many chairs had been put out for all seventy or so candidates.

The Weyrwoman stands in the center of them, smiling, "Now, tell me if you aren't here." A couple of those quickest to reply say they're here, who then quietly giggle realizing what they just said, along with the smart-asses who tell the Weyrwoman they 'really aren't here'. It takes a moment for them all to realize Falora was trying to get them to relax by asking the pointless question.

"Now," Falora begins, "This has been a long wait for all of you. Most times clutches hatch in almost half the length this has taken, but this time was special. Most of you already know the reason, but some of you don't, so I'll quickly explain to you before we go in."

"Visitors to the Weyr," the Weyrwoman left out exactly where the visitors were from, "came with technology. Some that could possibly help us in the future. The eggs have been tampered with," she pauses, giving room to the gasps and looks of those present who didn't know. "but with the permission of the Weyr and the dragons."

"The eggs have been genetically altered. Meaning the insides have been changed to test something. All of the eggs were attempted to turn into each of the five shades of dragon. Some will be successful, and others may not. The colors the geneticists tried for most were the metallics. The gold and bronze will probably number most."

"The fall back to this tampering is the length in time it takes for the eggs to harden. And in this time, the shells have become incredibly thick, so if a hatchling can't get out, and the egg is visibly shaking, don't be afraid to run up and break it open. The dragonling embryos are fully mature, so you can't hurt them by cracking the shell to get them started."

Falora smiles, "No formal clothing is needed either. This is a clutch that will end up being an exception to the rule, so we can continue in that and not make you wear the robes. You can if you want to, because it is rather cold, even on the sand, so whatever you wear, make sure you're comfortable."

At that the group streams out. The Weyrwoman chuckles and looks down at Thessa, the only child who had stayed. "I can have my piece now?"

Falora nods and grins, "You've got a whole pie. I set it aside over there."

"Thank you!" As the girl runs off, Talion leaps off her shoulder, only to sit on Falora's. The Weyrwoman grins, rubbing her flit's eyeridges. 

Now for a hatching! Falora starts walking back towards the sands. Naomith replies dryly, It's about time.

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Continue

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