Dragonsdawn - Chapter Five
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i_read_whatSo last time, we had our first fire lizard bonding. Also, the adults are having relationship shenanigans while being judgmental about sex.
So, we're told that after the Thankgiving celebration, everyone settles down to routine work. I suppose I was wrong about my prediction about Ongola, as he's not mentioned at all. The dolphins are though. Apparently they're tracking the tsunami wave. This is interesting:
The dolphins were excited by the earthquake, for they had sensed its imminence from the reactions of the larger marine forms that scurried for safety, and they were pleased to learn of such awareness in the life of their new oceans. As Teresa had told Efram in indignant clicks and hisses, they had rung and rung the seabell installed at the end of the jetty, but no one had come. The marine rangers had had their work cut out to soothe and placate the blues and bottlenoses.
“What was the sense,” Teresa, the biggest blue, had demanded, “of going through all that mentasynth infection if you humans don’t come to hear what we have to tell you?”
Fair fucking question, Teresa. Also, dolphins can talk???
It occurs to me that, based on the titles of later books, dolphins still exist on Pern. How fucking frustrating would it be, as a species, to have humans forget that you can talk? Especially when there are psychic lizards around.
They have found some good ores though, and Sallah's crush object Tarvi is now the head of mine engineering on Pern. That's a swanky title. And we're told about other progress: wheat and barley are thriving. Tubers are doing well. Squash is having a bit of trouble, and cucumbers and gourds are apparently susceptible to a "Pernian" fungus-worm. (I guess linguistically, they haven't settled on Pernese yet.) Orchards are doing well though.
The stores are doing well, as folks, particularly children, have been bringing in edible stuff. Fishermen have brought indigenous fish-like creatures that are very tasty. Gestation is cautiously going well. Turkey eggs haven't survived. But there are dogs expecting, and some of the cats have given birth. There was thought of giving the "metasynth" to the dogs, but apparently there was trouble with that back on Earth. Dogs don't do well with extreme empathy.
There is poultry, and mention of the indigenous wherries who have started to attack. But there are now thirty "dragonets" who, while smaller than the wherries, can work together and drive them off. And hey, new discovery!
Watching from the crowd of onlookers, Sorka noticed something very odd in the dragonets’ staunch defense: her Duke had appeared to attack one very aggressive wherry with what looked suspiciously like a little flame. Certainly there was smoke puffing up above the combatants, and the wherry broke off its attack and fled. It happened so fast that she was not sure what she had seen, so she did not mention the phenomenon to anyone.
Fair enough. I won't bitch about this, it makes sense that Sorka would notice first as hers (and Sean's) are the most mature. Admiral Benden is very respectful of the lizards, because he's a good heroic guy, and he notes their ability to communicate with each other. It's too bad they're not bigger. Heh.
Pol Nietro, the zoologist, is very impressed. He asks Sorka about any undisturbed nests, with the implication being that Benden wants him and Kitti Ping to start experimenting genetically. He asks about her observations of the hatching, and in the process, Sorka mentions Sean. Pol is interested in having Sean help with nest-hunting, and Sorka, very cutely, decides to negotiate on his behalf.
“Sean is your elusive but oft-mentioned ally?”
“Yes, sir. He and I discovered the first nest together and kept watch on it.”
“Would he assist us in finding nests, and . . . the hatchlings?”
Sorka regarded the zoologist for a long moment. He had always kept his word to her, and he had been very good about Duke that first day. She decided that she could trust him, but she was also aware of his high rank in Landing, and what he might be able to do for Sean.
“If you promise, promise — and I’d vouch for you, too — that his family gets one of the first horses, he’ll do just about anything for you.”
Sorka's mom is embarrassed, but Pol is charmed, as am I. I don't really mind an ultra-special character, as Sorka clearly is, when I like them. It's hypocrisy, sure, but I'll own that. It helps that I find Sallah off-putting, I suppose. Sorka's too young to slut-shame.
And to be fair to the colonists, the Connells are apparently already first in line to get horses. Sorka arranges the introduction to Sean. Sean is also a pretty shrewd negotiator:
“May we request your services in this venture, Sean Connell?” Pol Nietro asked formally.
Casually, Sean cocked his head and gave the zoologist a long and appraising look. “What’s in it for me to go off hunting lizards?”
“Dragonets,” Sorka said firmly.
Sean ignored her. “There aint no money here, and me da needs me in the camp.”
Sorka moved restlessly beside Pol, unsure if the scientist would rise to the occasion. But Pol had not been head of a prestigious zoology department in the huge university on First without learning how to deal with touchy, opinionated fellows. The young rascal who eyed him with ancient, inherited skepticism merely presented a slightly different aspect of a well-known problem. To any other young person, the zoologist might have offered the chance to light the evening bonfire, which had become a much-sought-after privilege, but he knew that Sean would not care about that.
I like Sean too. He's a bit of a dick, but I appreciate that in a kid. Pol is pretty clever, he asks if Sean had had a pony of his own. Anyway, he asks about the pony's traits and explains that he can basically manipulate genes. He can basically recreate a horse that resembles Sean's old one.
“Just to find lizard eggs?” Sean’s suspicious nature overcame his awe.
“Dragonet eggs.” Sorka doggedly corrected him. He scowled at her.
We’re trading eggs for eggs, young man. A fair exchange, with a riding horse from your egg in the bargain, altered to your specifications as a gratuity for your time and effort in the search.”
Sean glanced once more at Sorka, who nodded reassurance. Then, spitting into the palm of his right hand, he extended it to Pol Nietro. Without hesitation, the zoologist sealed the bargain.
I've forgotten what a craftsman McCaffrey can be, because this entire dialogue, and really Sean's demeanor and attitude in general, says so much, subtly, about the poor kid's experiences. When Pol brings up the pony, Sean's first reaction is callous dismissal that the thing has "long since gone to meat" and implies something ate him. He's awed at the offer but also immediately distrustful. This is a child who hasn't been allowed the opportunity to indulge in sentimentality. Life has already made him tough. It's really sad, and remarkably effective without ever explicitly saying a word about his backstory directly.
So the kids get permission to go on the journey. It's by sea! Sean's not doing well with it, but suppressing fear and nausea so he can earn his horse and not show weakness in front of Sorka. I STILL have no idea how old Sean and Sorka are actually supposed to be. They read VERY young at times.
The sloop is neat:
The forty-foot sloop, Southern Cross, could be sailed with a crew of three, slept eight, and had been designed to serve as an exploratory ship as well as a fast courier. Jim Tillek had already sailed as far west as the river they had christened the “Jordan,” and, along with a crew to measure volcanism, as far east as the island volcano whose eruption had interrupted the Thanksgiving feast. He was hoping to get permission to make the longer crossing to the large island off the northern continent, and to explore the delta of the river proposed to carry the ore or finished metals from the projected mining site. He had, he told the enthralled Sorka, sailed all the seas and oceans of Earth during his leaves from captaining a merchantman on the Belt runs, and up as many rivers as were navigable: Nile, Thames, Amazon, Mississippi, St. Lawrence, Columbia, Rhine, Volga, Yangtze, and less well known streams.
Tillek is pretty happy to be able to indulge in his trade. It does seem like they have sea sickness medication also, as a microbiologist comes out feeling much better. Tillek and Sorka bond over maps, and he gets a description:
Jim Tillek had never been so contented and happy before in a life that had already spanned six decades. A misfit in a high-tech society because of his love of seas and ships, bored by the monotonous Belt runs to which his lack of tact or incorruptible honesty restricted him, Tillek found Pern perfect, and now he had the added fillip of being one of the first to sail its seas and discover their eccentricities. A strongly built man of medium height, with pale blue, far-seeing eyes, he looked his part, complete with visored cap pulled down about his ears and an old guernsey wool sweater against the slight coolness of the fresh morning breeze. Though the Southern Cross could have been sailed electronically from the cockpit with the touch of buttons, he preferred to steer by the rudder and use his instinct for the wind to trim the sheets. His crew were forward, making all lines fair on the plasiplex decks and going about the routine of the little ship.
So the kids go hunting. They find some green nests, and of course, there's the built in hierarchal bits.
“I think The first three I found are only greens,” Sorka said with quiet authority. “They’re much too close to the water for a gold. Duke thinks so, too. He doesn’t seem to like greens. But the one we found farthest away is well above high-tide marks, and the eggs are bigger. I think they’re hard enough to hatch soon.”
“Two green clutches and two I’m positive are gold,” Sean said briskly, and began to eat, pausing only to offer his two browns their share of his meal. “There’s a lot of ‘em about, too. Are you going to take back all you can find?”
I suppose it's less annoying here, because there's a purpose for wanting the bigger eggs. When we're just talking vanity pets though, it's fucking annoying.
It's kind of funny. In Moreta and Nerilka, there were points when Alessan and Nerilka reminded me of Lessa. Here, Sean in particular reminds me a lot of F'lar. I wonder how far back his dragon rider lineage actually goes?
Actually though, Pol is happy to use the eggs of the green fire lizard, as they seem less maternally inclined. They would like to find dead hatchings of other colors, but have no intention of hurting any of them.
“Dead is the only way you’d get one,” Sean muttered.
“You’re likely correct,” Bay said with a little sigh. She was a portly woman in her late fifth decade but fit and agile enough not to hinder the expedition. “I’ve never been able to establish a rapport with animals.” She looked wistfully at Sorka’s bronze lying in the total relaxation of sleep around the girl’s neck, legs dangling down her chest, the limp tail extending almost to her waist.
“A dragonet’s so hungry when it’s born, it’ll take food anywhere it can,” Sean said with marked tactlessness.
“Oh, I don’t think I could deprive someone of — ”
We’re all supposed to be equal here, aren’t we?” Sean demanded. “You got the same rights as anyone else, y’know.”
Asshole with a purpose. There's no proving it, but I feel like this is a trait that breeds true some thousands of years later.
Oh, hey, looks like you guys were right about the cut off slur being "tinker":
“Tinkering isn’t something lightly undertaken. You know how many efforts abort or distort.” Bay smiled to ease her gentle chiding.
“Tinker?” Sean came alert.
“They didn’t mean you, silly,” Sorka assured him in a low voice.
So anyway, they're interested in seeing if they can breed the lizards a bit bigger so they'll be better able to take down wherries. I like that. It makes it more plausible to me that they'll then start making them big enough to be rideable dragons quickly, if they're already kind of leaning in that direction.
Pol has a weird bias against Chinese dragons though:
“Out of the stew of creation so few survive, and often not the obvious, more perfectly designed or environmentally suited species,” Pol said with a long patient sigh. “It is always amazing to me what does win the evolutionary race to become the common ancestors of a great new group. I’d never have expected anything as close to our vertebrates as wherries and dragonets on another planet. The really strange coincidence is that our storytellers so often invested a four legged, two-winged creature in fantasy, although none ever existed on Earth. Here they are, hundreds of light-years away from the people who only imagined them.” He indicated the sleeping Duke. “Remarkable. And not as badly designed as the ancient Chinese dragons.”
“Badly designed?” the seaman asked, amused.
“Well, look at him. It’s redundant to have both forelimbs and wings. Earth avian species opted for wings instead of forelimbs, though some have vestigial claws of what had once been the forefinger before the limb became a wing. I’ll grant you that a curved rear limb is useful for springing off the ground — and the dragonet’s are powerful, with muscles into the back to provide assistance — but that long back is vulnerable. I wonder how they arrange their mechanics so that they can sit up for so long without moving.” Pol peered at the sleeping Duke and touched the limp tail. “There is one slight improvement: the excretory hole in the fork of the tail instead of under it. And there are dorsal nostrils and lungs, which are a distinct improvement. Humans are very poorly designed, you know,” he went on, happy to be able to exercise his favorite complaint to a rapt audience.
IIRC, Chinese dragons use their forearms dude. But I rather like him going on about the awkward evolutionary traits of humans. And this bit is funny:
“I’d rather have bellyaches in my middle than headaches,” Tillek said in a droll tone. “Though, from what I saw once, some of the other Vegan operating mechanisms are exceedingly unhandy, particularly the sexual and reproductive arrangements.”
Pol snorted. “So you think having the playground between the sewers makes more sense?”
“Didn’t say that, Pol,” Jim Tillek answered hurriedly with a glance at the two children, though neither were paying the adults much heed. “It’s a bit handier for us, though.”
More evidence, I think, that Sorka and Sean are pretty young. Teens, even pre-teens, probably would have caught that.
The whole discussion is pretty fun and would probably amuse Copperfyre to no end. But sadly, I can't excerpt the whole thing.
There's also some interesting discussions/implications about the greater society's mindset toward genetic engineering:
Oh, yes, cybernetically we do, and in vitro we can correct certain gross genetic mistakes. It’s true that we are allowed to use the Eridani mentasynth, though personally I don’t know whether our response to it is a boon or not. It makes people too empathic with their experimental animals. But we can’t do much yet, of course, with the laws that the Pure Humans forced through to prohibit drastic changes.”
“Who’d want to?” Tillek asked with a frown.
“Not us,” Bay assured him hastily. “We don’t have that kind of need on this world. But I sometimes feel that the Pure Human Life Group was wrong to oppose alterations that would permit humans to use those water worlds in Ceti IV. Lungs exchanged for gills and webbing on hands and feet is not that great or blasphemous an adaptation. The fetus still goes through a similar stage in utero, and there’s good evidence for a more aquatic past for adults. Think how many planets would be open to humans if we weren’t so limited to land areas that met our gravitational and atmospheric requirements! Even if we could provide special enzymes for some of the dangerous gases. Cyanides have kept us out of so many places. Why . . .’’ She threw up her hands as words failed her.
Sean was peering at the two specialists with some suspicion.
“Campfire talk,” Sorka told him sagely. “They don’t mean it.”
I wonder how much the kids actually do understand about the conversation. Sean decides he's going to bed so he can be up before dawn. Sorka follows his lead. She seems to really enjoy the exploration part, thriving at the idea of being alone and safe in a part of a world that "has never felt the tred of feet." While lost in thought, she manages to trip over a half-buried clutch. Fortunately Duke helped. Sorka thinks about how if she could alter one thing about Duke, it'd be to give him speech.
She also decides she has to hide her tracks as the gold dragonets are smarter than the greens and would notice. A swarm of fire lizards come, and Sorka realizes that the clurch must be very close to hatching. So she has the idea to grab one so she can bring it back to the scientist, Bay. She races back to camp and gets the now cracking egg to Bay, who, after some excitement, becomes the happy owner/partner of a lovely golden dragonet. Aw.
Sorka suggests they go back to the nest to see if any of the hatchlings didn't make it. Meanwhile, Sean's back and carrying something. There's a funny snarky bit where Sorka suggests that he brought more eggs, but Pol doubts Sean's altruistic nature. I mean, he's a kid. But he's also pretty F'lar like, so fair.
And indeed, what he has is upsetting to Duke. He himself looks unhappy. He's got two dead hatchlings, from a gold's clutch, and some green eggs. The mood is somber. Though this part strikes me also as a bit F'lar like:
Only then did Sean see the sleeping dragonet. A fleeting look of surprise, admiration, and annoyance crossed his face, and he sat down with a thump.
Sorka did not quite meet his eyes. “I didn’t do as well,” she heard herself saying. “I didn’t get what we were sent after. You did.”
Sean grunted, his face expressionless. Above his head, his browns exchanged news with her bronze in a rapid fire of cheeps, chirps, and murmurs. Then each gave a flip to its wings to close them back and settled in the sun to catch the warming rays.
The chapter ends here.
So, we're told that after the Thankgiving celebration, everyone settles down to routine work. I suppose I was wrong about my prediction about Ongola, as he's not mentioned at all. The dolphins are though. Apparently they're tracking the tsunami wave. This is interesting:
The dolphins were excited by the earthquake, for they had sensed its imminence from the reactions of the larger marine forms that scurried for safety, and they were pleased to learn of such awareness in the life of their new oceans. As Teresa had told Efram in indignant clicks and hisses, they had rung and rung the seabell installed at the end of the jetty, but no one had come. The marine rangers had had their work cut out to soothe and placate the blues and bottlenoses.
“What was the sense,” Teresa, the biggest blue, had demanded, “of going through all that mentasynth infection if you humans don’t come to hear what we have to tell you?”
Fair fucking question, Teresa. Also, dolphins can talk???
It occurs to me that, based on the titles of later books, dolphins still exist on Pern. How fucking frustrating would it be, as a species, to have humans forget that you can talk? Especially when there are psychic lizards around.
They have found some good ores though, and Sallah's crush object Tarvi is now the head of mine engineering on Pern. That's a swanky title. And we're told about other progress: wheat and barley are thriving. Tubers are doing well. Squash is having a bit of trouble, and cucumbers and gourds are apparently susceptible to a "Pernian" fungus-worm. (I guess linguistically, they haven't settled on Pernese yet.) Orchards are doing well though.
The stores are doing well, as folks, particularly children, have been bringing in edible stuff. Fishermen have brought indigenous fish-like creatures that are very tasty. Gestation is cautiously going well. Turkey eggs haven't survived. But there are dogs expecting, and some of the cats have given birth. There was thought of giving the "metasynth" to the dogs, but apparently there was trouble with that back on Earth. Dogs don't do well with extreme empathy.
There is poultry, and mention of the indigenous wherries who have started to attack. But there are now thirty "dragonets" who, while smaller than the wherries, can work together and drive them off. And hey, new discovery!
Watching from the crowd of onlookers, Sorka noticed something very odd in the dragonets’ staunch defense: her Duke had appeared to attack one very aggressive wherry with what looked suspiciously like a little flame. Certainly there was smoke puffing up above the combatants, and the wherry broke off its attack and fled. It happened so fast that she was not sure what she had seen, so she did not mention the phenomenon to anyone.
Fair enough. I won't bitch about this, it makes sense that Sorka would notice first as hers (and Sean's) are the most mature. Admiral Benden is very respectful of the lizards, because he's a good heroic guy, and he notes their ability to communicate with each other. It's too bad they're not bigger. Heh.
Pol Nietro, the zoologist, is very impressed. He asks Sorka about any undisturbed nests, with the implication being that Benden wants him and Kitti Ping to start experimenting genetically. He asks about her observations of the hatching, and in the process, Sorka mentions Sean. Pol is interested in having Sean help with nest-hunting, and Sorka, very cutely, decides to negotiate on his behalf.
“Sean is your elusive but oft-mentioned ally?”
“Yes, sir. He and I discovered the first nest together and kept watch on it.”
“Would he assist us in finding nests, and . . . the hatchlings?”
Sorka regarded the zoologist for a long moment. He had always kept his word to her, and he had been very good about Duke that first day. She decided that she could trust him, but she was also aware of his high rank in Landing, and what he might be able to do for Sean.
“If you promise, promise — and I’d vouch for you, too — that his family gets one of the first horses, he’ll do just about anything for you.”
Sorka's mom is embarrassed, but Pol is charmed, as am I. I don't really mind an ultra-special character, as Sorka clearly is, when I like them. It's hypocrisy, sure, but I'll own that. It helps that I find Sallah off-putting, I suppose. Sorka's too young to slut-shame.
And to be fair to the colonists, the Connells are apparently already first in line to get horses. Sorka arranges the introduction to Sean. Sean is also a pretty shrewd negotiator:
“May we request your services in this venture, Sean Connell?” Pol Nietro asked formally.
Casually, Sean cocked his head and gave the zoologist a long and appraising look. “What’s in it for me to go off hunting lizards?”
“Dragonets,” Sorka said firmly.
Sean ignored her. “There aint no money here, and me da needs me in the camp.”
Sorka moved restlessly beside Pol, unsure if the scientist would rise to the occasion. But Pol had not been head of a prestigious zoology department in the huge university on First without learning how to deal with touchy, opinionated fellows. The young rascal who eyed him with ancient, inherited skepticism merely presented a slightly different aspect of a well-known problem. To any other young person, the zoologist might have offered the chance to light the evening bonfire, which had become a much-sought-after privilege, but he knew that Sean would not care about that.
I like Sean too. He's a bit of a dick, but I appreciate that in a kid. Pol is pretty clever, he asks if Sean had had a pony of his own. Anyway, he asks about the pony's traits and explains that he can basically manipulate genes. He can basically recreate a horse that resembles Sean's old one.
“Just to find lizard eggs?” Sean’s suspicious nature overcame his awe.
“Dragonet eggs.” Sorka doggedly corrected him. He scowled at her.
We’re trading eggs for eggs, young man. A fair exchange, with a riding horse from your egg in the bargain, altered to your specifications as a gratuity for your time and effort in the search.”
Sean glanced once more at Sorka, who nodded reassurance. Then, spitting into the palm of his right hand, he extended it to Pol Nietro. Without hesitation, the zoologist sealed the bargain.
I've forgotten what a craftsman McCaffrey can be, because this entire dialogue, and really Sean's demeanor and attitude in general, says so much, subtly, about the poor kid's experiences. When Pol brings up the pony, Sean's first reaction is callous dismissal that the thing has "long since gone to meat" and implies something ate him. He's awed at the offer but also immediately distrustful. This is a child who hasn't been allowed the opportunity to indulge in sentimentality. Life has already made him tough. It's really sad, and remarkably effective without ever explicitly saying a word about his backstory directly.
So the kids get permission to go on the journey. It's by sea! Sean's not doing well with it, but suppressing fear and nausea so he can earn his horse and not show weakness in front of Sorka. I STILL have no idea how old Sean and Sorka are actually supposed to be. They read VERY young at times.
The sloop is neat:
The forty-foot sloop, Southern Cross, could be sailed with a crew of three, slept eight, and had been designed to serve as an exploratory ship as well as a fast courier. Jim Tillek had already sailed as far west as the river they had christened the “Jordan,” and, along with a crew to measure volcanism, as far east as the island volcano whose eruption had interrupted the Thanksgiving feast. He was hoping to get permission to make the longer crossing to the large island off the northern continent, and to explore the delta of the river proposed to carry the ore or finished metals from the projected mining site. He had, he told the enthralled Sorka, sailed all the seas and oceans of Earth during his leaves from captaining a merchantman on the Belt runs, and up as many rivers as were navigable: Nile, Thames, Amazon, Mississippi, St. Lawrence, Columbia, Rhine, Volga, Yangtze, and less well known streams.
Tillek is pretty happy to be able to indulge in his trade. It does seem like they have sea sickness medication also, as a microbiologist comes out feeling much better. Tillek and Sorka bond over maps, and he gets a description:
Jim Tillek had never been so contented and happy before in a life that had already spanned six decades. A misfit in a high-tech society because of his love of seas and ships, bored by the monotonous Belt runs to which his lack of tact or incorruptible honesty restricted him, Tillek found Pern perfect, and now he had the added fillip of being one of the first to sail its seas and discover their eccentricities. A strongly built man of medium height, with pale blue, far-seeing eyes, he looked his part, complete with visored cap pulled down about his ears and an old guernsey wool sweater against the slight coolness of the fresh morning breeze. Though the Southern Cross could have been sailed electronically from the cockpit with the touch of buttons, he preferred to steer by the rudder and use his instinct for the wind to trim the sheets. His crew were forward, making all lines fair on the plasiplex decks and going about the routine of the little ship.
So the kids go hunting. They find some green nests, and of course, there's the built in hierarchal bits.
“I think The first three I found are only greens,” Sorka said with quiet authority. “They’re much too close to the water for a gold. Duke thinks so, too. He doesn’t seem to like greens. But the one we found farthest away is well above high-tide marks, and the eggs are bigger. I think they’re hard enough to hatch soon.”
“Two green clutches and two I’m positive are gold,” Sean said briskly, and began to eat, pausing only to offer his two browns their share of his meal. “There’s a lot of ‘em about, too. Are you going to take back all you can find?”
I suppose it's less annoying here, because there's a purpose for wanting the bigger eggs. When we're just talking vanity pets though, it's fucking annoying.
It's kind of funny. In Moreta and Nerilka, there were points when Alessan and Nerilka reminded me of Lessa. Here, Sean in particular reminds me a lot of F'lar. I wonder how far back his dragon rider lineage actually goes?
Actually though, Pol is happy to use the eggs of the green fire lizard, as they seem less maternally inclined. They would like to find dead hatchings of other colors, but have no intention of hurting any of them.
“Dead is the only way you’d get one,” Sean muttered.
“You’re likely correct,” Bay said with a little sigh. She was a portly woman in her late fifth decade but fit and agile enough not to hinder the expedition. “I’ve never been able to establish a rapport with animals.” She looked wistfully at Sorka’s bronze lying in the total relaxation of sleep around the girl’s neck, legs dangling down her chest, the limp tail extending almost to her waist.
“A dragonet’s so hungry when it’s born, it’ll take food anywhere it can,” Sean said with marked tactlessness.
“Oh, I don’t think I could deprive someone of — ”
We’re all supposed to be equal here, aren’t we?” Sean demanded. “You got the same rights as anyone else, y’know.”
Asshole with a purpose. There's no proving it, but I feel like this is a trait that breeds true some thousands of years later.
Oh, hey, looks like you guys were right about the cut off slur being "tinker":
“Tinkering isn’t something lightly undertaken. You know how many efforts abort or distort.” Bay smiled to ease her gentle chiding.
“Tinker?” Sean came alert.
“They didn’t mean you, silly,” Sorka assured him in a low voice.
So anyway, they're interested in seeing if they can breed the lizards a bit bigger so they'll be better able to take down wherries. I like that. It makes it more plausible to me that they'll then start making them big enough to be rideable dragons quickly, if they're already kind of leaning in that direction.
Pol has a weird bias against Chinese dragons though:
“Out of the stew of creation so few survive, and often not the obvious, more perfectly designed or environmentally suited species,” Pol said with a long patient sigh. “It is always amazing to me what does win the evolutionary race to become the common ancestors of a great new group. I’d never have expected anything as close to our vertebrates as wherries and dragonets on another planet. The really strange coincidence is that our storytellers so often invested a four legged, two-winged creature in fantasy, although none ever existed on Earth. Here they are, hundreds of light-years away from the people who only imagined them.” He indicated the sleeping Duke. “Remarkable. And not as badly designed as the ancient Chinese dragons.”
“Badly designed?” the seaman asked, amused.
“Well, look at him. It’s redundant to have both forelimbs and wings. Earth avian species opted for wings instead of forelimbs, though some have vestigial claws of what had once been the forefinger before the limb became a wing. I’ll grant you that a curved rear limb is useful for springing off the ground — and the dragonet’s are powerful, with muscles into the back to provide assistance — but that long back is vulnerable. I wonder how they arrange their mechanics so that they can sit up for so long without moving.” Pol peered at the sleeping Duke and touched the limp tail. “There is one slight improvement: the excretory hole in the fork of the tail instead of under it. And there are dorsal nostrils and lungs, which are a distinct improvement. Humans are very poorly designed, you know,” he went on, happy to be able to exercise his favorite complaint to a rapt audience.
IIRC, Chinese dragons use their forearms dude. But I rather like him going on about the awkward evolutionary traits of humans. And this bit is funny:
“I’d rather have bellyaches in my middle than headaches,” Tillek said in a droll tone. “Though, from what I saw once, some of the other Vegan operating mechanisms are exceedingly unhandy, particularly the sexual and reproductive arrangements.”
Pol snorted. “So you think having the playground between the sewers makes more sense?”
“Didn’t say that, Pol,” Jim Tillek answered hurriedly with a glance at the two children, though neither were paying the adults much heed. “It’s a bit handier for us, though.”
More evidence, I think, that Sorka and Sean are pretty young. Teens, even pre-teens, probably would have caught that.
The whole discussion is pretty fun and would probably amuse Copperfyre to no end. But sadly, I can't excerpt the whole thing.
There's also some interesting discussions/implications about the greater society's mindset toward genetic engineering:
Oh, yes, cybernetically we do, and in vitro we can correct certain gross genetic mistakes. It’s true that we are allowed to use the Eridani mentasynth, though personally I don’t know whether our response to it is a boon or not. It makes people too empathic with their experimental animals. But we can’t do much yet, of course, with the laws that the Pure Humans forced through to prohibit drastic changes.”
“Who’d want to?” Tillek asked with a frown.
“Not us,” Bay assured him hastily. “We don’t have that kind of need on this world. But I sometimes feel that the Pure Human Life Group was wrong to oppose alterations that would permit humans to use those water worlds in Ceti IV. Lungs exchanged for gills and webbing on hands and feet is not that great or blasphemous an adaptation. The fetus still goes through a similar stage in utero, and there’s good evidence for a more aquatic past for adults. Think how many planets would be open to humans if we weren’t so limited to land areas that met our gravitational and atmospheric requirements! Even if we could provide special enzymes for some of the dangerous gases. Cyanides have kept us out of so many places. Why . . .’’ She threw up her hands as words failed her.
Sean was peering at the two specialists with some suspicion.
“Campfire talk,” Sorka told him sagely. “They don’t mean it.”
I wonder how much the kids actually do understand about the conversation. Sean decides he's going to bed so he can be up before dawn. Sorka follows his lead. She seems to really enjoy the exploration part, thriving at the idea of being alone and safe in a part of a world that "has never felt the tred of feet." While lost in thought, she manages to trip over a half-buried clutch. Fortunately Duke helped. Sorka thinks about how if she could alter one thing about Duke, it'd be to give him speech.
She also decides she has to hide her tracks as the gold dragonets are smarter than the greens and would notice. A swarm of fire lizards come, and Sorka realizes that the clurch must be very close to hatching. So she has the idea to grab one so she can bring it back to the scientist, Bay. She races back to camp and gets the now cracking egg to Bay, who, after some excitement, becomes the happy owner/partner of a lovely golden dragonet. Aw.
Sorka suggests they go back to the nest to see if any of the hatchlings didn't make it. Meanwhile, Sean's back and carrying something. There's a funny snarky bit where Sorka suggests that he brought more eggs, but Pol doubts Sean's altruistic nature. I mean, he's a kid. But he's also pretty F'lar like, so fair.
And indeed, what he has is upsetting to Duke. He himself looks unhappy. He's got two dead hatchlings, from a gold's clutch, and some green eggs. The mood is somber. Though this part strikes me also as a bit F'lar like:
Only then did Sean see the sleeping dragonet. A fleeting look of surprise, admiration, and annoyance crossed his face, and he sat down with a thump.
Sorka did not quite meet his eyes. “I didn’t do as well,” she heard herself saying. “I didn’t get what we were sent after. You did.”
Sean grunted, his face expressionless. Above his head, his browns exchanged news with her bronze in a rapid fire of cheeps, chirps, and murmurs. Then each gave a flip to its wings to close them back and settled in the sun to catch the warming rays.
The chapter ends here.
no subject
Date: 2023-02-11 03:22 pm (UTC)