Post by wolflover1458 on Dec 14, 2009 18:12:17 GMT -5
Sinowa
A plague is what caused everything. It lasted only two and half short Turns, and still nearly killed all life on Pern. Or all life that stood between humanity and utter annihilation.
The Holds were untouched; only the Weyrs suffered loss. Dragons started coughing and riders started to weaken and tire easily. The riders, remembering history, remembering and fearing, quarantined themselves, breaking all contact with the Holds to prevent the spread. At least the people would continue existing, new Candidates would stand ready to replenish the Weyrs once the threat had passed. They would overcome and triumph.
And then the dragons began dying in their sleep and the riders followed after. To the horror of all, Queens were affected the most severely, dying the fastest, especially those close to clutching. Despair ran rampant; without their Queens, the dragons had no hope of continuation. There would be none to replace those already lost.
When it was almost too late, the remaining riders whom the plague had not yet infected set out and found a lonely Weyr far from the sickness, neither in the North nor the South. The sick were left to die; there was no way to stop this invisible menace, to prevent the inevitable. Only a handful had hope; a pair of grown Queens, seven bronzes, eleven browns, twenty-four blues, and forty greens, plus a weyrling Queen, hatched just before the plague struck, the last of her siblings to survive the onslaught. The last real hope for Pern's survival.
While the riders waited for the inevitable to happen, for the sickness to run out of flesh to feed on, they lasted through harsh winters and blazing summers. For two Turns, they waited, their despair growing. Thread was due to return in the next Turn or two; would they be safe to leave their haven when it did? Finally, the remaining dragons stopped keening for lost brethren, for there was none left to keen for. The plague had finally claimed the last life it had access to and now laid dormant, unable to infect anything else. Those left could return home.
Yet, the only thing left of what once had been were the empty Weyrs and a few bodies that had yet to be devoured by wild animals. The sickness could then only be contracted by touching the dead with bare flesh; too cautious and too fearful, the last riders did the only thing they could do -- burn the bodies where they lay and scatter the ashes between, where the fatal disease would be lost forevermore.
The riders spread out, forming three new Weyrs. One of the adult Queens took to the North, taking with her two bronzes, five of the browns, nine blues, and fourteen greens. Some stayed at the only home they had had for the past two Turns, the haven-Weyr, Sinowa. Here the weyrling Queen, now in her second Turn, took up the mantle of Senior Queen, keeping with her three bronzes, three browns, four blues and four greens. The last Queen, old and egg-heavy for the last time led her fair down to the warmth of the Southern Continent, too tired to deal with more cold and harshness. In their hearts the dragons and riders carried the memory of those lost, and in their blood they carried the vaccine that the Weyr Healers had dedicated most of their time in solitude creating. Even if the plague had escaped complete eradication, it would never again harm Pern's defenders. Nothing of its menace would ever again threaten the future of the planet...
...No one ever stopped to consider the side-effects.
A plague is what caused everything. It lasted only two and half short Turns, and still nearly killed all life on Pern. Or all life that stood between humanity and utter annihilation.
The Holds were untouched; only the Weyrs suffered loss. Dragons started coughing and riders started to weaken and tire easily. The riders, remembering history, remembering and fearing, quarantined themselves, breaking all contact with the Holds to prevent the spread. At least the people would continue existing, new Candidates would stand ready to replenish the Weyrs once the threat had passed. They would overcome and triumph.
And then the dragons began dying in their sleep and the riders followed after. To the horror of all, Queens were affected the most severely, dying the fastest, especially those close to clutching. Despair ran rampant; without their Queens, the dragons had no hope of continuation. There would be none to replace those already lost.
When it was almost too late, the remaining riders whom the plague had not yet infected set out and found a lonely Weyr far from the sickness, neither in the North nor the South. The sick were left to die; there was no way to stop this invisible menace, to prevent the inevitable. Only a handful had hope; a pair of grown Queens, seven bronzes, eleven browns, twenty-four blues, and forty greens, plus a weyrling Queen, hatched just before the plague struck, the last of her siblings to survive the onslaught. The last real hope for Pern's survival.
While the riders waited for the inevitable to happen, for the sickness to run out of flesh to feed on, they lasted through harsh winters and blazing summers. For two Turns, they waited, their despair growing. Thread was due to return in the next Turn or two; would they be safe to leave their haven when it did? Finally, the remaining dragons stopped keening for lost brethren, for there was none left to keen for. The plague had finally claimed the last life it had access to and now laid dormant, unable to infect anything else. Those left could return home.
Yet, the only thing left of what once had been were the empty Weyrs and a few bodies that had yet to be devoured by wild animals. The sickness could then only be contracted by touching the dead with bare flesh; too cautious and too fearful, the last riders did the only thing they could do -- burn the bodies where they lay and scatter the ashes between, where the fatal disease would be lost forevermore.
The riders spread out, forming three new Weyrs. One of the adult Queens took to the North, taking with her two bronzes, five of the browns, nine blues, and fourteen greens. Some stayed at the only home they had had for the past two Turns, the haven-Weyr, Sinowa. Here the weyrling Queen, now in her second Turn, took up the mantle of Senior Queen, keeping with her three bronzes, three browns, four blues and four greens. The last Queen, old and egg-heavy for the last time led her fair down to the warmth of the Southern Continent, too tired to deal with more cold and harshness. In their hearts the dragons and riders carried the memory of those lost, and in their blood they carried the vaccine that the Weyr Healers had dedicated most of their time in solitude creating. Even if the plague had escaped complete eradication, it would never again harm Pern's defenders. Nothing of its menace would ever again threaten the future of the planet...
...No one ever stopped to consider the side-effects.