Author's Note: The stories in "Stories from StarStorm" series were written for the now extinct offline Pern fan club, StarStorm Weyr. Only a couple were ever published in the fanzine.

StarStorm Weyr is part of an altered timeline, taking place during the Second Interval into the Third Pass. Dragonkind, due to lack of interest and a belief that Thread will not return, began declining. Most of Pern's population moved back to the Southern Continent and the dragonriders established one huge Weyr: StarStorm.

Thread returned, however, and the Weyr suffered heavy casualties. A couple of Turns into the Third Pass, the Leadership decided to found a second Weyr, Great Barrier, to help cover the immense Southern Continent. Senior Weyrwoman Bastet and her queen, Thoth, moved to Great Barrier along with the difficult Yajira and her queen, Cariath. Weyrwomen Grier and Tessalin remained at StarStorm, with Grier as senior, until Bastet's death moved Tessalin to Great Barrier. Her queen rose first and she is now senior.

With this background in mind, these stories follow the lives of brownrider J'fren, and Trina, a woman of the Lower Caverns at StarStorm.

Many, many thanks to the founders of StarStorm Weyr for their great premise and timeline. The characters of the Weyr Leadership and the timeline's setting are theirs. I do not own them, nor did I create them. I also do not own or claim any of Anne McCaffrey's wonderful characters or settings on Pern. I do thank her for allowing fans to play on her playground, however.

Can Do No Wrong: Part I of "Stories from StarStorm"

by Natchez

Rainy Shades Hold

StarStorm Weyr

Second Interval, 160.09.15 through 176.06

Tarel, Harper at Rainy Shades Hold, sang his daughter's favorite songs as the board holding the bodies of her and her spouse, Mathren, slid into the open sea. Docena, his spouse, held their grandson, only six sevendays old, in her arms. Poor child — he would never know his parents.

The couple slowly made their way to the knot of people standing on deck. They were Mathren's brothers and sisters. They planned to offer the raising of the baby to one of Mathren's siblings, if any wanted him. None did. So, they did what they had decided to do in that eventuality — take him back to their cot at Rainy Shades Hold and raise him as their own. They made the decision when it became more likely that firehead would claim both parents. Docena was pleased to have a baby in the house. It had been such a long time since Talnea was a child. Now they had her dear son, Jeffren by name. But Docena called him Jeff. And his dark blue eyes promised to be the color of Talnea's own.

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"NO! It's mine! You can't have it!" screamed the little boy to the other child. The child dropped the stuffed toy and backed up to his mother, crying. A four-year-old Jeffren calmly picked up the toy and strolled over to his grandmother with it. "Nana, it's mine," he said.

"Yes dear, it is yours. But you have to learn to share," Nana said.

"No, Nana. Won't share. It's mine," he replied.

Nana did her best to look sternly at the fragment of humanity standing before her, in perfect calm and confidence. It was a little disconcerting the way Jeff immediately went calm when he got his way. And how cool he was in justifying it.

"Very well, dear. Go find Nelon something else to play with," she said.

"I won't."

"Now Jeff, don't be difficult. Nelon wants to play with you." Nelon didn't look too sure of that, however, and his mother was definitely not amused.

"Docena, Jeff's a smart little boy, but you've got the makings of a first-class brat in your cot if you don't take a firmer hand with him," the mother said.

"Why Liminy! Jeff could never be a brat. He's such a sweet little boy!" Docena exclaimed.

"Whatever. But you mark my words."

Docena didn't understand why anyone would think their grandchild was a brat, but that seemed to be the consensus of several mothers. "He's just strong-willed," she justified it. "And determined." She looked at his handsome little face, so serious and intelligent, with those dark eyes, just like Talnea's, and wondered how any other child could be as wonderful. The other mothers were just jealous. It was the only explanation.

It wasn't long before only the older children would play with Jeff, and then they baited him mercilessly. It was apparent he was a little undersized, and the older boys teased him relentlessly, just to see his firebrand temper erupt in a fit of screaming and rock-throwing. It was their favorite pastime. Tarel and Docena were so pleased with his sharp mind and budding musical talent, they didn't seem to notice.

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"What if someone sees us?" Lomey said.

"So what if they do? We can swim here," Jeff said, reasonably.

"But we're not any of us supposed to dive from the ledge. My Da said he'd stripe me but good if he caught me." Lomey looked around, as if expecting his sire to appear at any moment.

Jeff laughed, "Well, Pops may be angry, but he won't do anything. He never does."

"You are so lucky. Tarel and Docena never punish you for anything. You get away with stuff I'd get flayed for doing," Lomey sighed enviously.

Jeff just shrugged. "Well, it comes in handy that's for sure." He stripped to his clout and ran to the edge of the ledge. "Last one in is a watchwher!" As Lomey watched in amazement, Jeff jumped off the ledge, arms raised over his head and dived into the river, raising hardly a splash. Lomey walked to the edge and looked at the deep water. He was a decent swimmer, but Jeff's antics gave the cautious boy pause. Suddenly, Jeff's black head popped up out of the water and he said, "Come on, Lomey! What are you waiting on?"

The boy looked at the ledge, perhaps 30 feet above the water, and then at Jeff, lazily floating on its surface. His courage deserted him and he said, "No, Jeff. I really just can't do it. I'll come in and swim, but I'm not diving. It's too dangerous."

"Suit yourself," was the other boy's reply. Jeff, now 10, had discovered the ledge made for great opportunities for acrobatic diving, and he practiced, regardless of Tarel's repeated warnings about the danger. He clambered out of the water and climbed the ledge again. Lomey had descended and was swimming near the riverbank.

"Watch this one!" Jeff shouted. Lomey watched as his friend dived off again, this time touching his toes mid-air and straightening out before he hit the water. Lomey shook his head. Jeff was absolutely fearless. He never seemed to be scared of anything.

Another trip up the ledge and Lomey heard Tarel's voice, calling his grandson. Jeff was too far away to hear. He motioned frantically, but Jeff didn't see him. Just then, Tarel broke through the trees, and watched with his heart in his throat, as his only grandchild launched himself off the ledge and turned a somersault before he hit the water. Fear and anger warred with admiration as he saw the boy emerge from the water.

"Hello, Pops," Jeff said coolly as he towelled himself dry. Lomey was waiting for the ax to fall. Surely, Tarel would really get Jeff for this flagrant disobedience.

"Jeff, I've told you about that ledge time and again. It's dangerous, diving off like that," Tarel said, fear winning over anger in his voice.

"Oh, Pops, I'm careful," Jeff replied.

"Lad, you must--you simply must--stay away from there. What will your Nana and I do if something happens to you? You're all we've got!"

Jeff looked a little shamefaced. He did feel guilty when Pops said that to him. He knew they would be devastated if something should happen to him. "All right, Pops," he said. "I'll stop it."

"Do I have your word?" Tarel said, knowing once Jeff gave a promise, he never went back on it.

The boy nodded.

"Fine then. Enjoy your swim. Be home in time for supper." The man left.

Lomey looked at Jeff. "Well, I'm gobsmacked. I don't know you wormed out of that one," he said.

Jeff grinned wickedly. "It helps, being the only one," he said.

"Tell me about it," Lomey sighed.

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"What in great Faranth's name do you think you're doing, Jeff?" thundered Tarel.

Both figures turned guiltily. Tarel had caught Jeff and one of the Hold girls on a withie sheaf in the barn. She was sitting in his lap, he had one hand under her blouse and they were kissing.

The girl's eyes grew huge. "Oh, Harper!" She tucked her blouse in and ran out of the barn, leaving Jeff, now 12, to adjust his own clothing, with the customary composure he showed when caught doing what he wasn't supposed to--which was very, very often.

"Afternoon, Pops," he said.

"Don't you 'afternoon Pops' me," Tarel growled. "You are in big trouble. I told you, did I not, what I was going to do to you if I caught you with another one of the girls?"

Uh-oh. Jeff nodded.

"Well, guess what? It's happened. Your Nana and I have indulged you for much too long. I see that, now. Your gitar is locked up for as long as I see fit, AND you're going out on the Hold gardening detail after your lessons every day for a month. By Faranth's egg, I intend to keep you too busy to chase girls. You have plenty of time later for that. I don't know why under the double moons you have to start in such earnest at the age of 12. But come Fall, fog or fire, you're going to leave these girls alone!"

"Yes, sir," Jeff said quietly. He would put up with gardening, but he had really put his foot in it if Pops was going to lock up his gitar. Talk about getting a guy right where he lived...his gitar was the brightest joy in his life. Jeff shuffled out of the barn to the cot. Shells! He couldn't help it that he found females irresistible. Truth be told, he couldn't remember ever not liking women.

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Jeff was back on gardening duty when the Search dragons rode to find Candidates for Thoth's latest clutch on the Sands. He was feeling absolute rebellion in his soul. He had a lump on his head and a black eye from the fight he had been in when Pops caught him and hauled him out by his bare arms. Then, the boy Jeff had been fighting thought fit to tell Tarel that his grandson was accruing a lot of marks by gambling--and he had been playing patty-fingers with the girls, especially after he had been drinking too much.

Tarel had no desire to make an asthete out of his grandson, but neither did he want Jeff to become a drunk, or a habitual gambler--or a man with a bad reputation where women were concerned. He cursed himself again for having been so lax on the lad all these years. And this time, with Docena's crying and wailing ringing in his ear, he striped Jeff's back with his belt and put him to work in the gardens again.

Sweat was running down Jeff's sore back and he had blisters on his hands from hoeing. He knew Pops thought he was doing what was best, but shards and shells! Wasn't he just a little past the age for a beating? He had to admit Pops had a point about the drinking and gambling, but why worry so about the girls? Not as if any of them were reluctant.

So ran his thoughts when he saw the blue and green dragons blink in from between and come to land in the Hold courtyard. Hmm. Riding a dragon would allow him to do exactly as he liked. Come and go as he pleased. And the Weyr didn't care how many women a man wanted. He finished his hoeing and cleaned up, then went to see the dragons.

Their riders were talking to some of the other young Holder people and he went right up to the green and spoke to her courteously. She turned her head and looked at him interestedly, and then turned to her rider, who came to speak to Jeff herself.

"Afternoon, lad. What's your name?" the woman asked.

"Jeffren."

"I'm Calla, and this is my dragon, Macorth."

"Well met, greenrider Calla. My duty to you, Macorth," Jeff replied, with a nod to the dragon.

Calla raised an eyebrow. "How many Turns have you, Jeffren, and where did you acquire those pretty manners?" she asked.

"I'm almost 16, and my grandsire is the retired Hold harper here at Rainy Shades. I suppose that accounts for my manners," he replied, giving Calla an interested grin. She was attractive.

Calla felt the heat in his gaze, in spite of herself. Black eye and all. And her twice his age and weyrmated to the same rider for Turns! Well, well. Big trouble in a small package.

"I'd not have thought 16 Turns, but I'll take your word for it. Ever thought about riding a dragon?"

Jeff grinned at her again. "Who hasn't?" he replied.

Calla returned his smile. "True. Who's your grandsire again?"

"Tarel."

"I see. I may have to speak with him."

"And why would that be?" Jeff asked.

"Macorth seems to think you would make an excellent dragonrider, Jeffren. She's satisfied we should take you along with us to the Weyr."

Jeff's heart leaped. "Are you serious?" he said.

"Very. Now, where can I find your parents?" Calla replied.

"Up at the cot. They're my grandparents. They raised me," he explained.

"I see. Let's walk up there."

As they walked, Calla observed the lad. She could tell he was intelligent and sharp-witted. She wondered if his grandparents would be glad to be rid of him.

As Calla packed Jeffren's things on her dragon, she breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't know when she'd had such a painful scene with parents while riding Search. His grandparents were crushed at the thought of their grandson leaving them.

What Jeffren had neglected to tell her was that he had received extensive Harper training, but Jeffren didn't want to be a Harper. He wanted to ride a dragon, and at last, Tarel and Docena had to concede to his wishes. They weren't happy, but they had to let him go. They walked him out to the dragons and Jeff tenderly embraced his grandmother as she cried. Calla smiled. The lad obviously loved his grandparents deeply, in spite of his recent growing pains. Still, she was relieved when Jeffren was aboard, clutching his gitar and with riding straps fastened.

Settling into the rhythm of life at the Weyr took a couple of days, but Jeff adapted quickly. He found that he knew most of the basics the Candidates were taught already, leaving him free time for his music and his other hobby--girls. To his frustration, however, the weyrgirls were a little more savvy than the Holder girls were, and they seemed to prefer the Candidates who looked their age. He was going to have to do something about that.

Life was a little tougher in the Candidates' barracks. Sl'tren, the Weyrlingmaster for their group, tried to keep order, but there were a lot of boys in the barracks, and Jeff usually found himself the shortest, smallest one of the lot. He was so sick of "short" jokes, he was ready to explode. A couple of weeks on half rations had curbed him from fighting the others if they provoked him, but his busy mind teemed with thoughts of revenge.

Several of the boys woke with rashes, caused, no doubt, by the irritant herb spread in their bedclothes. Those who continued tormenting Jeff soon were shaking out their underwear carefully, having found the same herb where it hurt a lot worse. But Jeff never seemed to be around when the deeds were done, and although Sl'tren had his suspicions, he knew he was dealing with a clever mind that bordered on the diabolical. It would take some doing to catch Jeff at his antics. But, he mused, the boys really did deserve some payback for the way they treated him, and since no real harm was ever done, he just maintained a cautious, watchful eye on the boy.

Jeff did have one good friend among the Candidates: Colland. He knew the initial friendliness was because Colland was attracted to him, but once Jeff kindly and gently explained that he liked girls and wasn't interested in experimenting, he and Colland became fast friends. He even had a willing partner in crime, since Colland had suffered from some of the boys, as well. They made a good team.

The best day Jeff had since he arrived at the Weyr was when he got up one morning and looked in the mirror at the beginnings of a real moustache. He had been trying to grow one and now it actually seemed one was starting to sprout. In a couple of sevendays, he had a decent one and was inordinately proud of it. Now, maybe the weyrgirls would notice him. After all, he sure looked older, and making it with a few of the girls was bound to win him some respect in the barracks. He had grown his dark hair out, as well, and it hung nearly to his shoulders. He strolled into the dining area in the Lower Caverns with a new spring in his step and walked by the table where the weyrgirls always sat. The looks he got this time were ones of interest. Things were looking up.

"Jeffren! Why don't you sit with us this morning?" one of the girls asked.

He looked thoughtful for a moment and said, "Well, I suppose I have the time." He got a bowl of hot cereal and sat down with it, next to one of the prettiest weyrgirls, who had scooted over on the bench to give him a spot. But she hadn't moved over enough to keep them from touching as he seated himself. Jeff ate, and casually dropped his opposite hand to the girl's knee, stroking it sensually as he chatted with the others.

He hardly glanced at Esha, the girl beside him, but could see out of the corner of his eye that she was starting to squirm a bit. He moved his hand up a little to her thigh and she squirmed even more. Jeff finished his cereal and stood up. He flashed a knowing grin at Esha and she smiled back. He returned his bowl to the dishroom and walked back past the table, and gave his head a slight jerk toward the back corridors as he caught Esha's eye. She nodded.

Jeff waited in one of the halls that led to the flight chambers. It was deserted and dimly lit, but he could see Esha as she slipped down the corridor. He smiled at her as she reached him. He took her hand and led her farther down, into true darkness. There, he said, "Well, I'm glad you came. I'd like to get to know you a little better. Can I kiss you?" He pulled her closer.

"Sure," she said.

Jeff put his arms around the girl and pressed his lips to hers. It had been a while since he had kissed a girl, and it felt so good. She responded, but was not the most proficient kisser. That was all right with Jeff, though. He could teach a girl how to kiss. But he definitely had other things on his mind, as well. Those flight chambers were never disturbed unless they were in use, and then cleaned afterwards, so as long as they stayed in the smallest one, they should be left completely alone. But that was for later. This girl probably wasn't ready for that, yet.

He broke the kiss, and left her a little breathless. "I've n-never been kissed like that, Jeffren," she gasped.

He chuckled, "Question is, pretty Esha, did you like it?"

"Oh y-yes. I did."

"That's good because I'd really like to kiss you again," he murmured in her ear.

"Yes, please," she said, turning her face to his. Jeff took her chin in his hand and kissed her again. She caught on quickly. This kiss was much better than the first one. He could feel her relax into his arms as he settled himself against the stone wall. She was nicely curved and felt good as she pressed herself against him. He trailed kisses down her neck and she giggled as his moustache tickled her skin. But she liked it, he could tell. And he did, too.

After some little while spent kissing in the darkness, Jeff could hear a commotion in the Caverns and said to Esha, "You'd best get back. But fix your top first," he said, as she moved away from him.

Esha reddened there in the darkness as she pulled her blouse back into place. How in the world had Jeffren done that without her noticing? Maybe she just hadn't cared. He sure knew how to kiss a girl, that was for certain. It made her wonder what else he might be good at.

"I'll go out the opposite way since I need to get back to the barracks," he said. "But I want to see more of you. I'll let you know when I'm free again, all right?"

"All right, Jeffren. I'll see you." Esha kissed him quickly again and left the hall. Jeff walked out the other side that led to the barracks area. He had his hands in his pockets and he was whistling merrily. Colland saw him as he walked and caught up with him.

"Jeff, boy, where have you been? I've been looking all over for you!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, I've been around," Jeff replied carelessly.

Colland looked keenly at him. "You're as smug as a dragon killing his first buck. So, who is she?"

"Who's who?"

"Don't give me that. You've been with a girl. Nothing else could put that look on your face. Which one?"

Jeff grinned. "Esha."

"Really? One of the pretty ones. Amazing what a moustache can do for your love life. I may have to grow one," Colland replied.

"Blond as you are, it'll probably come in red."

"You're right. It probably would. So, how far did you get?"

"We just kissed. But we'll see what happens." Jeff turned to his friend and grinned largely. "But you know, Coll? I think things are starting to turn around."

Their conspiratorial chuckles as they strolled back to the barracks made Sl'tren think about retiring, and soon.