Dragon Dreams - The Quest for Pern

By Dana Sterling

Inspired by Anne McCaffrey

"Oh, Tongue, give sound to joy and sing... Of hope and promise on dragonwing.

Chapter One - The Message Rocket

SPACE … infinitely vast, filled with a wondrous variety of stars, planets, heavenly bodies of every description, and phenomenon still not completely understood. Someone once called this the final frontier. They weren't wrong. No matter how far any space‑faring race has pushed back the boundaries of unexplored space, there was still infinitely more to explore.

Stars, pinpoints of light on a velvet curtain of black drifted across the forward viewport. My mind was out there, wandering among those stars, contemplating how many of them had planets. And I wondered, how many of those as yet unexplored systems possessed planets capable of supporting sentient lifeforms. What would these unknown beings look like? What environmental factors would dictate how a given species evolves? What …

The alerting bell, rudely intruding on my reverie, sounded just then from my instrument panel.

"Sector 27 scan results: nominal. No anomalies," I reported.

Humph, I sniffed in disgust. That's how the entire mission had been going … no anomalies. Nothing challenging, exciting, or different. These sector patrols were becoming a ruddy boor.

"Life science scans complete," my partner, Davar, reported. "Results …"

"Nominal," I snorted, disgust evident in my voice.

"What is wrong, J'hon?" Keymon, our Kendite navigator queried.

J'hon was the closest his biped feline race could come to pronouncing my name correctly. But I didn't hold that against him. Keymon was my dearest friend. I'd met other Kendites before; they were all polite and friendly.

"Same old swill, Key," chuckled Davar. "Our illustrious leader here craves a little excitement!"

"The first contact pre‑departure scans are important for the safety of the team members, J'hon."

"I know, Key," I sighed, giving him a smile. "Just wish we'd run across something different every once in a while."

I missed the challenge and excitement of the first contact missions: meeting new sentient species, different cultures, exotic experiences, new ways of thinking. But, the first contact teams operated on a rotating schedule, and at this particular time, our team was on sector duty.

"All procedures complete, Dav? Keymon?"

"Checklist complete, Skipper," Dav replied. "First contact team shouldn't have any trouble day after tomorrow … unless they're prone to boredom!"

"Funny, Dav," I remarked, elbowing him in the ribs and eliciting a satisfying 'Whoof!'. "How about you, Key?"

"I am also finished, my friend. No potential navigation anomalies noted."

"Enough fun for one day. Let's have a vector for home, Key."

"Vector 120 … mark 37," he responded after a quick check of his instruments.

"Roger. Coming about."

Firing up the warp nacelles, I was just about to alter our course when the proximity alarm sounded.

"Belaying that. What have we got, Dav?"

"Metallic object, about 100 kilometers out," he reported, "cylindrical, length about 3 meters, mass about 90 kilos."

"Have we got a visual?"

"Coming up on secondary screen now."

At first, all we could make out was the surrounding starfield. Then, a faint glimmer, like light reflecting off water.

"Magnifying image."

The screen blurred for a moment, then resolved itself into a closer view of the object.

"Not much to look at, is it?" Dav shrugged.

"What is it?" asked Keymon.

"It's an old style distress beacon rocket," I said, answering Key's question. "Last time I saw one of those was on a vid‑disk in our ancient history classes back at the Academy. Used solid or liquid fuels for propulsion, depending on the booster design. Compact, functional, but not very efficient." I shook my head in amazement. "That thing's gotta be over two thousand years old! Where could it have come from, and more importantly, who fired it?"

"Uh oh, Key," cautioned Davar, "he's got that look in his eye!"

Dav was teasing me, of course, but I never could resist a good puzzle.

In the cold, forbidding vacuum of space, dozens of light-years from any known race of intelligent beings, pock-marked and weather-worn, the rocket drifted aimlessly and alone; its past a mystery, like the page of a history book that somebody suddenly discovers is missing.

I was fascinated by this old – no, I corrected myself – this ancient relic. Questions kept coming to mind the longer I stared at it. Who had it originally belonged to? Who had subsequently fired it? Who was it supposed to reach? When was it fired? Where was it fired from and where was it supposed to go? And, most importantly, why was it fired?

"What shall we do, J'hon? Leave it?"

"No. Tractor it into the cargo hold. I'd like to examine it when we get back to port."

"You got it," Davar acknowledged. "Activating tractor beam."

Silently, the beam lanced out to snare the old rocket. Dav, with his usually impeccable skill, deftly tucked it into our cargo bay.

"All secure, Skipper," he reported as the door warning light on the control panel winked out.

"Copy that. We're outta here!"

Firing the maneuvering thrusters to alter our heading to the proper course, I cut in the warp drive, and we flashed away in a blur.

We made record time back to the Altair system, and soon had made orbit around Altair VI. Approach control reported traffic around the spaceport was light, so I asked for and got clearance to practice a power‑off manual approach for landing; considered strictly an emergency procedure.

We practiced it every so often to simulate a complete failure of all shipboard propulsion systems. Energy management was crucial … you were trading altitude for airspeed. With no propulsion systems, it had to be flown precisely or you wouldn't get a second chance. I'd had to do the real thing once when I was a cadet on a training flight, and while I managed to land safely, I found I had soiled my pants when I finally rolled to a stop.

"Approaching high key, propulsion systems going to standby," I advised approach control.

"We copy, Starduster One Niner. Good luck."

"Skipper, is this really necessary?" Dav gulped, the cockpit getting noticeably quieter as I placed all propulsion systems on standby.

"What's the matter, Dav?" I asked, lowering the ship's nose to begin the descent, "afraid you might mess yourself?"

"Me?! Of course not!" but I could see the gill slits on his neck were noticeably flared.

This kind of approach also necessitated a steep descent angle … all you saw through the front viewport was ground.

"Starting our turn," I reported as I slowly banked us to the left.

I didn't look behind me, but I knew Keymon would be sitting there, eyes closed, silently praying to his gods for favor.

"Runway coming into view, looking good," I said aloud as the landing strip slowly appeared through the side viewport.

"Starduster One Niner, be advised that surface winds have begun to swing around to a heading of two four zero degrees at ten knots," the controller reported. "Exercise caution."

"Acknowledged, Approach," I replied. "Understand quartering tailwind on landing. Will adjust. Rolling out on centerline."

With a gentle nudge of the flight controls, I returned the ship to wings level, the landing strip and approach lights visible ahead.

"By the Maker, that looks steep!" Keymon whispered behind us.

"With any luck, Key, you'll never have to do this for real. Beginning landing phase."

I brought the nose of our craft up to a shallower angle of descent to bleed off some of our excess speed. The ground was fast approaching, but our instruments showed our energy state was good. The power‑off approach also meant a faster landing speed than we were accustomed to, but we were well within safe limits, I noticed with satisfaction.

"Starting landing flare," I said, bringing the nose up to check our rate of descent.

"Over approach end, gear coming down," I reported as I moved the gear handle to the extend position.

The sound of rushing air filled the cockpit as the gear doors opened followed by three audible thumps as the landing gear locked down into position.

"Three good gear," I called out, noting the panel indicators all showed green. "Standby."

Gently, I eased the ship down to the runway and felt the main gear make contact. I held the ship's nose up for a moment longer to bleed off more speed then gently lowered it to the runway.

"Nice approach, One Niner," control congratulated us. "Been a while since we've seen one of those. Well done."

"Thanks for giving us a chance, Control," I replied. "I appreciate it."

"We show you going to bay 49 alpha, One Niner. Talk to you later."

We taxied clear of the runway with some momentum to spare, but I brought up the thrusters to take us the rest of the way to the parking bay.

"You can start breathing now, Dav," I told him as the ship came to a gentle stop in the docking bay, "we're home."

"Skipper, next time you get it in your head to try that again," he sighed, relief evident in his voice, "leave me on the ground. Okay?"

"Next time, I'll let you fly the approach, and I'll watch."

Davar blanched, staring open‑mouthed at me.

"Relax, my friend," Keymon assured him, placing a comforting forepaw on Dav's shoulder, "he's just teasing you."

Davar gave me an admonitory look, but I merely shrugged.

"Never could fool you, could I, Key? Come on. Let's get the rocket off‑loaded."

Between the three of us, we easily carried the rocket out of the cargo bay and off the ship, then we placed it in a small utility repair bay where it could be secured until I was ready to examine it.

"Thanks for the help, guys." I said after locking the repair bay door. "If anyone's thirsty, I'm treating."

"Sorry, Skipper," Davar replied, "but I've got a lady waiting for me."

"Which one is it this time?" teased Keymon.

Dav had a penchant for women, and he certainly didn't limit his tastes to one species.

"Ahh! Now that would be telling!" he laughed. "I'll see you later!"

"What about you, Keymon? Some Zondinerite brandy?" I asked as Davar ran off.

"No, my friend. This is the evening of Kiztumei, the time of meditation. But thank you for asking."

"Transcend brightly, then, my friend."

"And you, J'hon."

With that, he left.

Traffic in and out of the spaceport was pretty light tonight, I noted, not many beings about. I stood a moment contemplating the locked bay door.

"No one to drink with … no women waiting anxiously for me."

I shook my head slowly from side to side as I turned the key over in my hand. Sometimes I envied Davar.

"No meditation time to contemplate, and only reheatable dinners waiting in my quarters." That last thought made me grimace. "Guess there's no time like the present," I shrugged as I reached over and unlocked the repair bay door.