Dragonsblood

by Todd McCaffrey

  Pierre nodded. “But now she is not here. And we are left to do her work.”

  “Yes,” Wind Blossom agreed, rising from her seat. “Can you carry the body?”

  “I think so,” he said. “Where should I take it?”

  “There’s a makeshift morgue over at the College,” she told him.

  Pierre looked thoughtfully down at Emily’s body. “I can manage. And then what?”

  Wind Blossom shook her head. “The lab technicians, both first and second team, have been overcome. I suppose I should see what I can do there first. But I still have to make my rounds, there are patients—”

  Pierre held up a hand. “No one can be in two places at once; not even Emily could do that. Which is more important?”

  “Both.”

  “Who can help?”

  “If there are some nurses or interns, they can tend the sick, but I don’t think anyone else knows how to operate the lab equipment.”

  “Then you have your answer,” Pierre said.

  “I don’t know if there are enough interns,” she said.

  “There will have to be,” Pierre said after a moment’s thought. “If you are the only one left to handle the lab equipment, then the others will have to make do.”

  And so it was decided. With Wind Blossom in the lab, Pierre found himself first blocking anyone from disturbing her and then later increasingly taking charge of the whole medical organization, starting with providing food and rest for the medical staff and their supporters, and then moving on to organizing the quarantine of the sickest and the burial of those beyond aid.

  At the end of the second day, Wind Blossom had isolated the disease: As she had feared, it was a crossover of Pernese bacteria into Terran bacteria. The poor lab teams, following their medical training to look for the most likely causes, had been looking for either a flavivirus like Ebola, or a combination of viral and secondary bacterial infections. Instead, they had themselves become victims of the object of their search.

  They had had the right symptoms but the wrong culprit. The colonists of Pern had no natural protection against the hybrid bacteria. Wind Blossom, following her training as an ecologist, isolated the mutation, sequenced its genetic core, and developed a vaccine and a course of treatment.

  The pitifully few remaining medical personnel were innoculated first, then their assistants, and finally the population at large, and the epidemic was broken.

  But not without cost. Among those lost were most of the children under four years of age, almost all expectant or new mothers, nine out of every ten medics at Fort Hold—and Emily Boll.

  In private conversations first with Pierre and then with the recovered Paul Benden, it had been decided that it was better to ascribe the epidemic to a “mysterious” illness rather than a crossover infection—at least until Wind Blossom could train enough medical personnel to combat any future crossovers. Because the vaccine had been introduced along with a course of treatment, it was easy to convince most people that the treatments were only palliative and that only those with natural immunities had survived, leaving the survivors unconcerned about future recurrences.

  Before she passed away, Emily had written a note to be given to Sorka. Sorka had never shown the note to Wind Blossom, but shortly after she received it, Sorka had asked Wind Blossom to visit her.

  Their first meeting had been awkward.

  Over time, their professional relationship deepened into respect and, finally, into friendship.

  When Wind Blossom’s first and only child was born, she named her Emorra—combining Emily and Sorka—and had asked Sorka and Pierre to be godparents. Both had enthusiastically agreed.

  “How’s your daughter?” Sorka asked, guessing at Wind Blossom’s thoughts.

  Wind Blossom sighed. “She has not learned wisdom.”

  Sorka squeezed Wind Blossom’s hand weakly. “I’m sure she’ll get it.”

  “But not from me,” Wind Blossom said.

  “M’hall, leave us,” Sorka said. M’hall gave her a rebellious look but she forestalled his arguments, saying quietly, “I’ll call you back in good time, luv.”

  Clearly still uncomfortable, M’hall withdrew. Sorka’s gaze rested on the doorway for a moment, to assure herself that he wasn’t coming back. She turned her attention to Wind Blossom. “So, tell me.”

  Years of familiarity enabled Wind Blossom to take the open-ended question at its value. “We are doing all right,” she said.

  Sorka gave her a sour look. “Wind Blossom, I’m dying, not stupid. I heard about your short-term memory.”

  Wind Blossom managed to keep her surprise from her face, but Sorka detected it in her body language. The first Weyrwoman allowed herself a satisfied chuckle. “What are the implications?”

  Wind Blossom sighed. “I’m concerned because we have not had enough time to transfer our practical knowledge—things that have to be learned by doing rather than merely studying—from our eldest to our newer generation.”

  “So we’ll lose some knowledge,” Sorka observed. “It’s happened on colony worlds before and they survived.”

  Wind Blossom inclined her head in a nod. “True. But always at a cost: The knowledge had to be relearned, usually through trial and error at a later date. And sometimes the lack of that knowledge hit the affected colony world with a major setback.”

  “This could happen here?”

  “Yes. We are particularly vulnerable because of the population loss we suffered in the Fever Year and subsequent epidemics.”

  Sorka grimaced. “I knew that and we’ve discussed this before.”

  Wind Blossom allowed herself a rare smile. “But now we are discussing it for the last time, my lady.”

  Sorka snorted in derision at Wind Blossom’s use of the title. “Not you, too!”

  “I figured that if I am being so honored, you would deserve no less!”

  Sorka allowed her free hand to primp at her hair and smiled. “Well, it’s not as though us distinguished ladies are not entitled.”

  “Quite,” Wind Blossom agreed with a grin of her own. “But it disturbs me because it shows that people are beginning to adopt a caste system.”

  “And how does that affect the Charter?” Sorka mused.

  “Sociologically, I can see why this ‘elevation,’ this endowing of the old lord and lady titles, make sense in our young population,” Wind Blossom said.

  Sorka waved her free hand dismissively. “We’ve had this conversation before.”

  “I hadn’t forgotten,” Wind Blossom said. “But it bears repeating. The youngsters needed to relinquish a lot of control to the older colonists simply because we older people had learned the skills needed to surive. And survival on Pern is still touch and go—as those young people who do not heed their elders discover with the forfeit of their lives.”

  Sorka pulled her hand free of Wind Blossom’s and used both hands to make an emphatic “hurry up” gesture.

  “I can’t hurry up, Sorka, I’m thinking out loud,” Wind Blossom said. She paused, striving to recover her train of thought.

  “So Pern’s going to have a bunch of lords and ladies in the form of Weyrleaders, Weyrwomen, and the men and women who run the holds,” Sorka supplied when Wind Blossom’s silence stretched.

  The sound of boots striding loudly up to the entrance of Sorka’s quarters distracted them. Sorka’s bronze fire-lizard, Duke, looked up from his resting place at the foot of her bed, looked back to Sorka for a moment, and lowered his head again, unperturbed.

  “M’hall!” Torene shouted. “Why didn’t you tell me? What’s going on? Don’t you think I wanted to pay my respects?”

  M’hall’s voice was a murmur as he strove to placate his outraged mate.

  “Have you looked at the casualty reports recently?” Wind Blossom asked Sorka once they both determined that they were not going to be immediately interrupted.

  “I have,” Sorka’s voice was pained.

  “I am sorry. My mother had
predicted those numbers when she first calculated the mating cycle,” Wind Blossom said. “But with such a short life span fighting Thread, and with the difficulties of the holders in providing sufficient food for the colonists, maintaining a sufficient margin to support such luxuries as education and research is quite problematic.”

  Sorka nodded and gestured for the older woman to continue.

  “So our society will ossify and stratify at least until the end of this Pass.”

  “And then?”

  Wind Blossom shook her head. “Then population pressures will force an expansion of the Holder population and the creation of new Holds across this continent. The lack of Thread should allow the dragonriders several generations in which to increase their numbers and recover from this first Pass; the dragonriders in the next Pass should be much more able to handle the onslaught. There will be pressure in both the Weyrs and the holds to consolidate what they have and to build conservatively. Any skills not directly needed in expansion or retention will atrophy.”

  “That’s already happening.”

  “By the next Pass the skills needed to maintain our older, noncritical equipment will have been lost.”

  “Maybe before then,” Sorka agreed.

  Wind Blossom nodded. “Our descendants should survive anyway.”

  “Unless the wrong skills are lost,” Sorka noted.

  “That is my worry, yes,” Wind Blossom agreed.

  “You are an Eridani Adept, so you would worry about the ecology,” Sorka noted. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re worried about the dragons, aren’t you?”

  “At some point there will be crossover infections from the fire-lizards to the dragons,” Wind Blossom said.

  “There are the grubs and the watch-whers—what about them?”

  “Tubberman’s grubs were well-designed,” Wind Blossom said. “They are a distinct species derived from other native species. This gives them both the native protection and the native susceptibilities. Given that there are other similar species, there will be a high degree of crossover, as Purman demonstrated with his vine grubs. That actually provides a certain degree of protection because there are multiple species for a particular disease to assault. Any successful defense by one of the species will rapidly be spread to the other species. Also, because we plan to plant the grubs throughout the Northern Continent—and they have already been distributed throughout the Southern Continent—there is a strong likelihood that any severe parasitic assault on the grubs will devolve into a symbiosis before all of the species has been eradicated.”

  “Just like the Europeans and the Black Death,” Sorka observed.

  “Yes, rather like that,” Wind Blossom agreed.

  “If we’re spread across the Northern Continent that won’t be a major problem, will it?”

  “I hope not,” Wind Blossom agreed. “The effect of another epidemic should dissipate with the added distance between settlements.”

  “So the weak point in all this is the dragons, right?” Sorka said.

  Wind Blossom shook her head. “It is difficult to point to just one. The dragons or the watch-whers appear to be the most susceptible. We have thousands or millions of grubs but only hundreds of dragons and fewer watch-whers.”

  “Are the two genetically so similar that one disease might destroy them both?”

  Wind Blossom pursed her lips. “I strived to avoid that. In fact, I engineered so many changes . . . which might be one of the reasons that we had so many infertile watch-wher eggs.”

  Sorka’s eyes gleamed. “One reason.”

  Wind Blossom returned her stare with a blank look.

  “I am curious about the other reasons,” Sorka said. “I am now convinced that some of those failures were planned to make you look less skilled than you are.”

  Wind Blossom said nothing.

  “Your mother was trained by the Eridani,” Sorka said. “You were trained by her, weren’t you?”

  Wind Blossom shook her head. “There are some questions I should not answer even for you, Sorka.”

  A wheezing cough shook Sorka’s body and M’hall glanced inside, Torene hovering worriedly behind him.

  Sorka waved them back out as the cough passed.

  “If you cannot answer my questions, I won’t hinder you with them,” she said after taking a sip of water from the glass Wind Blossom proffered her.

  Wind Blossom winced. “I do not want to burden you.”

  Sorka smiled. “And I was trying to lighten your load. A burden shared, as it were.”

  Wind Blossom spent a moment in thought. “I do not know everything. I was not told myself.”

  “But you made guesses,” Sorka observed. “I have made guesses, too. Let me share some with you.

  “I think it odd that such heroic figures as Admiral Benden and Governor Boll should willingly take themselves into oblivion just after the Nathi War when their skills were still very clearly needed.”

  Wind Blossom nodded. “Yes, I had wondered about that.”

  “And the Eridani?”

  “When the Eridani agree to husband a new ecosystem they assign three bloodlines,” Wind Blossom said. “It is a major undertaking. There has only been one time that I know of where the Eridani have been willing to make such an assignment without having thorough knowledge of the ecosystem in question.”

  “Here?” Sorka asked.

  Wind Blossom nodded.

  “Three bloodlines?”

  “To avoid mistakes and provide redundancy,” Wind Blossom said. Sorka’s face paled and Wind Blossom reached for her hand, placing her finger over her wrist to take the Weyrwoman’s pulse. “Your pulse is failing, Sorka. Let me call the others.”

  “Wait!” Sorka’s voice was nearly a whisper. “What can I do to help you?”

  Wind Blossom was silent for a moment. “Go quietly and peacefully, dear friend.”

  Sorka smiled. “What can I do to help Pern? Do you want to perform an autopsy?”

  Wind Blossom’s eyes widened in horror. “No.”

  “But I heard that you need cadavers.”

  Wind Blossom shook her head. “Not yours.”

  She turned to the doorway and gestured to M’hall and the others to enter.

  Sorka glared at her but was so quickly surrounded by her offspring and relatives that she could do no more.

  “Her pulse is dropping,” Wind Blossom explained to Torene. “I do not know how much longer she has.”

  “Nice of you to let us in,” Torene returned tartly.

  “My request, Torene,” Sorka said. “I had to talk with my friend.”

  Torene looked chagrined but did not apologize.

  Tall men surrounded the Weyrwoman and she greeted each with a smile. “M’hall. L’can. Seamus. P’drig.”

  The men gave way to the women, Sorka’s daughters. “Orla. Wee Sorka.”

  The last was an elegant woman in her early thirties. Sean had insisted on naming their last-born Sorka because, as he’d said, “She looks just like you, love.”

  “Wee” Sorka leaned over from the far side of the bed to give her namesake a strong hug. Sorka hugged her back.

  “I’ll miss you most of all, I think, my wee one,” she told her youngest.

  “I’ll miss you too, Ma,” the younger Sorka replied, tears streaming unchecked down her face.

  Sorka turned from her to grasp M’hall’s hand. “My strong one.” M’hall gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

  Sorka looked at Torene. “Take good care of him for me.”

  Torene ducked her head, her cheeks wet with tears. “I will, Ma, you may depend upon it.”

  Sorka let go of M’hall’s hand and sought out L’can’s. “My silent one,” she said. L’can squeezed her hand, rubbing the tears from his face with the other.

  “We could bring you down to the Cavern, to Faranth, Ma,” P’drig said.

  Sorka smiled, letting go of L’can’s hand and grabbing his. “No. She knows my heart in this. I w
ill leave my body behind here, in your company and Wind Blossom’s keeping.”

  There was a concerted gasp and heads swiveled toward Wind Blossom.

  “Your father and I have given everything we can for you and Pern,” Sorka told them. “This poor body is but the least I can leave.”

  “You don’t need to do this,” Wind Blossom said.

  Sorka waved her objections aside. “I have heard about the pressing needs for cadavers—”

  “And I have told you that I do not want yours, Sorka,” Wind Blossom interrupted, her face wrought with emotion.

  “We must do what is best for Pern,” Sorka said. “It is my last request, Wind Blossom, that you perform an autopsy to investigate the early dementia you’ve recently noticed. Use my body for whatever medical purposes you see fit. I’d heard that you had wanted to practice for Tieran’s surgery—”

  “Mother!” The word was torn from M’hall’s throat.

  Wind Blossom shook her head. “I do not want to do this.”

  “The boy deserves a new face,” Sorka said. “I have thought about this for a fortnight now. In my bedside table you will find my will, with specific references on these matters.”

  Sorka looked around the room, catching the eyes of everyone in turn. “My loved ones, I will not deny you every protection I can think of. Soon I will no longer need my body. Let the people of Pern find a last use for it. Please, follow my will on this.” She turned her gaze to her eldest. “M’hall, in this I appoint you my executor.”

  “Mother . . . Ma . . .” M’hall broke down.

  Torene wrapped comforting arms around Sorka. She gave Wind Blossom a sour look, then looked at Sorka. “My lady, it shall be as you wish. I pledge my word as your daughter-in-law, and as Benden’s Weyrwoman. It shall be.”

  “Thank you,” Sorka said softly. She gave a deep sigh and turned back to the others. “Now, let me look at you all. Tell me how you are.”

  The conversation wandered on from son to daughter and back again. Sorka managed to get them to laugh once, and someone brought up refreshments. Gradually the talk wore down and Sorka ordered them to leave her, all but M’hall and Wind Blossom.

  “I want you to stay with me, Wind Blossom,” Sorka said, feebly patting her bed. “You and M’hall, here.”