Last Resort Chapter 1: Prologue, a dragonriders of pern series fanfic

This is a short little prequel to the actual story. It sets everything up so I don't have to somehow explain how they got where they are while still trying to move the plot forward (this is much harder than it sounds; and if it sounds hard, you understand how hard it really is). I will say this now, though: I am well aware that green dragons are genetically sterile, that it is not linked to firestone (despite whatever misguided evidence is provided by Todd's Dragonheart). However, this is my fanfic, so I can bend things to suit me. Deal with it. (Just remember that this is giving you a bit of a preview into the later chapters.) And for those who might get mixed up, the Eighth Interval means after the Eighth Pass and before the Ninth Pass; this is before Holders believed Thread had gone forever.

Edit: Unfortunately, writing stories at one in the morning is bound to result in mistakes; mine was a math error. 200 minus 135 does not equal 15; I have changed it to a difference of 25. Thus, the current Turn for this story is now 175. I apologize profusely and vow to check my math thoroughly before publishing any more stories.

Disclaimer: The Dragonriders of Pern is owned by Anne (and Todd) McCaffrey. I own nothing but my own characters and the somewhat dubious plotline and scenarios I have created for them.

Prologue: Eighth Interval (Turn 175)

A bronze dragon erupted out of between to glide lazily down to Benden Weyr's Bowl. His rider, the Weyrleader, dismounted and strode toward the Lower Caverns where his weyrmate would doubtless be. Barely pausing to let his eyes adjust, he barrelled through the room, making three serving girls and one of his blue riders jump out of his way before they were bowled over, to stop at the table where Marilla and her two junior weyrwomen were mending a basket of clothes. As he stood over them, his flight jacket still securely buttoned, their conversation died down.

"B'lan, what's the matter?" Marilla asked hesitantly as she half-rose from her seat.

"I need to speak to you privately," B'lan said brusquely, ignoring the other two queenriders.

Marilla pursed her lips, but followed as he led the way to their private quarters. He was younger than she was by a full twenty Turns, and she much preferred her previous weyrmate's calm indulgence to B'lan's eager, almost desperate, energy. But it had been his bronze to fly her queen when J'frel died. He was Weyrleader now, and she must at least do him the courtesy of listening, even if she worried at the dangerous glint to his eyes. She had seen his temper, even if he had never struck her in the Turn he had been her weyrmate, and she at least knew to be wary of him. She settled herself on the wide bed they shared and watched him pace.

"I've just been to the other Weyrs," he said finally, his expression tight with anger. "Did J'frel never bother to try to have his bronze bespeak the other Weyrs? Did you never think to?"

B'lan watched her closely, saw the honest confusion in her expression, and had his answer: no. Of course not. If they had, his trip today would not have been such a shock.

"I most certainly did not," Marilla said. "Why ever should I need to? The Weyrs are autonomous; we've no right to be meddling in each other's affairs. I should ask you why you visited them without telling me; I would have come."

B'lan snorted.

"Why did I visit them?" he asked incredulously. "Marilla, do you realize that Benden Weyr hasn't seen or heard from a single rider or dragon not of Benden since just after the Pass? I've looked through the Records; communication was normal, then it stopped altogether, with no warning. I thought it more than a little suspicious. So I went there with Ritanth, and..."

"And what, B'lan?" Marilla asked, her patience beginning to wear. She knew that B'lan had been a conspiracy-mad child and, for lack of a better word, a foolhardy wingrider who could never follow orders without second-guessing his superiors. She supposed that, now that he didn't have any superiors, he was trying to revert to his scheming child-self. "What did you and Ritanth find?"

"Nothing," he said ominously. "There was nothing, no one, waiting for me. I checked Igen first, but the rest were all the same. Not so much as a wherry in the corral, though Ritanth said tunnel snakes had set up quite comfortably in most of the store rooms. Don't you understand? Benden is the last Weyr on Pern, and Thread is due to return in roughly twenty-five Turns."

At that, B'lan was satisfied to see that Marilla had paled. Good; she was worried. That would make his next proposal easier.

"We can't rely on just Benden to keep all of Pern safe," he continued. "We need to send one of the other queens away."

"What?" Marilla exclaimed. "I've listened to a lot from you, B'lan, but this I cannot ignore. You cannot possibly be considering sending our queens outside of Benden!"

"You know I am," B'lan said. "Don't act as if it were some heinous crime. The Weyrs used to trade queens all the time; it's completely normal."

"If what you say is true," Marilla replied, "then there is absolutely no way I am going to send one of my queens to another Weyr without knowing why they are deserted."

"We have to," B'lan said heatedly. "You know as well as I do that queens clutch fewer eggs when they're in a group. With three queens all in one Weyr, they don't rise as often as they could. At the rate they're laying, there's no possible way to get even one other Weyr up to strength. We need to start the other Weyrs again, Marilla, and we can't do that by keeping all of our queens tucked away here."

"We also can't do that by sending all of our queens away," Marilla cut in. "You know as well as I that my Lenith is clutching fewer and fewer eggs. Her flights are farther apart, and Teralth was the last queen she clutched. That was five Turns ago! Lenith is getting old, and we both know she won't be rising for much longer. She won't clutch another queen, either. I won't allow your brashness to endanger the Weyr like this."

"Then send Polika and her Teralth," B'lan offered. "They're young, and you've trained them well for a Weyrwoman's duties. They'd only need a few bronzes and some weyrfolk to get started, and we'd be certain of at least one Weyr the next time Thread falls."

Marilla took a few minutes to think, but B'lan decided that, since she hadn't immediately rejected the idea, it had a chance.

"Which Weyr did you have in mind?" Marilla asked finally.

"High Reaches," B"lan answered. "It's cold, yes, and distant, but it's the western-most Weyr. If we only manage to have High Reaches and Benden, we can cover the far west and the far east separately while joining forces for the midlands. At least until we can resurrect the others."

"Go away, B'lan," Marilla said. "I need to plan. Send me Polika. I'll need to discuss this with her. And not a word to anyone else; I don't want anyone getting anxious before we have a definite way to give them hope."

B'lan nodded quickly and left his Weyrwoman to her resigned planning. He needed to talk to some of his wingleaders about the possibility of a separate Weyrleadership.

And there you have it. (Turned out to be not so short.) B'lan is worried about the lack of Weyrs and the (somewhat) imminence of Threadfall, so he sends a queen and some bronzes to High Reaches to resettle. Little does he know that his decision will evolve into something far more interesting and (possibly) dangerous, especially when both Weyrleaders die before passing on their knowledge of the High Reaches Weyr project to their junior Weyrwoman. Polika and the rest have, effectively, dropped between without a trace. Stay tuned for the REAL story.

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