Todd McCaffrey
Dragonsblood
For my sister,
Georgeanne Kennedy
Brave, strong, courageous
INTRODUCTION
When Shelly Shapiro, our Del Rey editor, asked me to write this intro, I hemmed and hawed because, let’s face it, I’m compromised on several counts. One, it is my world Todd is writing in; and two, he is my son.
However, he comes from quite an authorial background. His great-grandfather was a printer-engraver. His grandfather, Colonel George Herbert McCaffrey, wrote many reports to the government dealing with the occupation of countries; his uncle, Hugh McCaffrey, wrote about his experiences as a military adviser to Thailand when they were training their border police corps in a book called Khmer Gold, published by Ballantine Books in 1988. His grandmother dabbled in writing murder mysteries, but with three kids to raise and my father to contend with, she never went as far as writing them down. And then there’s me, his mother, and him growing up while I was writing the Pern series, which I’ve been doing since 1967.
They do say that teenagers are very impressionable. And as he was born in 1956, he was certainly immersed in the Pern experience at exactly the most tender time. Grown up, he has helped me work my way through scenes. He has put his military experience (he was in the U.S. Army), his flying experience (he holds a private pilot’s license), and his knowledge of spaceships (he has a graduate credit in spaceship design) to good use in advising me and sometimes even contributing whole scenes to books like Pegasus in Space, Freedom’s Challenge, and Nimisha’s Ship.
Todd has published a number of short stories-some even without the editors realizing his maternal connection! And he collaborated with me to write the recent Pern novel Dragon’s Kin-an experience that proved both gratifying and fun for both of us!
So he is well qualified to write this book. He is also a damned good writer, as Dragonsblood will confirm. Perish forbid you should take my word for his abilities. But you should.
You see, I’ve always been paranoid about people writing in my world. If you’d seen some of the lovingly but inaccurately written stories I’ve seen, including a film script that had me cringing in fear that it would be produced, you’d understand how I feel about having my literary child misrepresented. But Todd was in at the beginning, and he knows Pern as well as he knows the innards of his computer (and as a computer person by nature and by education, he knows his computer!). And I knew he could write well. So I knew-well, to be honest, I hoped-that he was right for Pern.
Todd’s insight into the world and its culture is well-nigh perfectly Pernese. He also had some of my strongest and most reliable Pern fans, like Marilyn and Harry Alm, go over the manuscript, so it isn’t just Momma encouraging her child. They were harder on him than I ever could have been. Not that I didn’t watch him closely! I couldn’t let him make mistakes, and we did have a couple of arguments about scenes, but I am happy to admit that Dragonsblood is a good yarn, fitting perfectly into the Pern series, yet something I don’t think I would have thought up myself.
Enjoy, as I did, another point of view about Pern. And thanks, son, you done did good and me proud!
ONE
Four men stood in a knot around the Star Stones of Fort Weyr. The sun was just above the horizon, casting the harsh shadows of early dawn at winter’s end. Each man wore the prestigious shoulder knots of Weyrleader. Their warm wher-hide jackets proclaimed them the leaders of Benden, Fort, Telgar, and Ista Weyrs.
K’lior, Fort’s Weyrleader, was host and the youngest present. He was also the newest Weyrleader, having gained his position less than a Turn before.
He glanced back to the Star Stones-to the Eye Rock, which bracketed the Finger Rock, which itself was lit by the baleful Red Star. Thread was coming. Soon.
The air was made more chilly by the steady breeze blowing across the plateau where Fort’s Star Stones were placed. K’lior suppressed a shiver. “Fort is still wing light. We’ve only had the one clutch-”
“There’s time yet, K’lior,” C’rion, Ista’s Weyrleader, judged. He pointed at the Red Star and the Eye Rock. “Thread won’t fall until after the last frost.”
“There’s no doubt, then, that Thread is coming,” K’lior said, wishing the other Weyrleaders would disagree with him.
For over two hundred Turns, the planet of Pern had been free of the threat of Thread falling from the sky.
Now that peace would end.
The Red Star’s return would bring the Thread that would try, once more, to devour all life on Pern.
For the next fifty Turns, the dragons would rise to the skies, flame Thread into lifeless char, or, failing, watch in horror as it burrowed into the rich soil of Pern to destroy all organic material with mindless voracity.
“Telgar’s ready, K’lior,” D’gan declared. He turned back from the Star Stones and the dawning light to gaze at the others, who were obscured by the sharp shadows of the early morning light. His words were firmly emphasized by the distant rumbling of his bronze, Kaloth. “My wings are at full strength and I’ve two clutches on the Hatching Grounds-”
One of the other Weyrleaders cleared his throat loudly, but D’gan’s fierce glare could not pierce the shadows to identify the culprit.
“Yes, we were lucky,” he continued in answer to the unknown heckler, “but the fact remains that Telgar will be wing heavy when Thread falls. And our holders have tithed fully so we’ve no lack of equipment or firestone.”
K’lior shifted uneasily, for he had been frank in relaying his difficulties in getting Fort’s full tithe. “But you don’t agree to pooling resources?” he asked again.
He had called this meeting of the Weyrleaders to propose just that. As none of them had ever fought Thread, K’lior felt that his notion of “fly together, learn together” had merit, and would promote communication among the Weyrs. He was shocked when D’vin of High Reaches had refused the invitation and was even further shocked by D’gan’s attitude. Telgar’s Weyrleader was Igen-bred, after all. K’lior had hoped that D’gan’s experience would have made him more amenable to working together, not less.
D’gan favored the wiry Fort Weyrleader with a superior look. “If you’re still wing light when Thread falls, K’lior, I’m sure I could spare some of my own.”
“I’ll bet they’re all bronzes,” a voice muttered dryly. It came from the direction of the Benden and Istan Weyrleaders.
The implication that D’gan might want to reduce the competition for Telgar’s next mating flight was obvious. Not that D’gan’s Kaloth had to fly all Telgar’s queen dragons to remain Weyrleader-just the senior queen.
D’gan stiffened angrily at the remark, turned to K’lior, and said, “I’ve a Weyr to attend, Fort. I must return.”
“Let me call someone to guide your way, D’gan,” K’lior offered pleasantly, worried about slippery walkways under unfamiliar feet.
The offer annoyed D’gan, who snapped, “I can find my own dragon well enough, Fort.”