THE HYBRID AND THE DRAGON

By Dogmeat

Author's Note: It's about time I actually posted this. This fanfic is a crossover between Dragonlance and a sci-fi D&D campaign I created years ago. I made this for two reasons; one, to serve as a kind of prelude episode revealing the unofficial origins of one of the main characters; and two, as a kind of tribute to the series that got me into fantasy in the first place. It doesn't exactly center around Dragonlance, but I suppose this is still where the story should be posted. The "Tales of the Discordia" campaign setting and story series, and all its characters, are my intellectual property; Dragonlance and its characters belongs to WoTC

The lone star dragon dozed happily on a small, slowly spinning asteroid, appreciating this rare moment of silence. For the last two months, she had been in and around her clan's lair, located to the rear of Discordia's outer hull. It had been noisy there, with a thousand telepathic minds chattering away at once, slightly muffled by the ever present rumble of the ship's mighty engines. The last few destinations had yielded nothing of interest to her, advanced civilizations being just as noisy as her clanmates. These races always harvested their nearer asteroid fields, leaving nowhere for a creature like her to relax.

But this system was different. The civilizations around here hadn't started scavenging from the void, a practice she and her kind considered barbaric and blasphemous. So, when Discordia left hyperspace and arrived here, she had taken flight and found this nice, quiet asteroid belt and curled up snugly on an inviting looking rock, for a brief respite from the chaos of clan life.

Star dragons were one of Discordia's more interesting species. Apart form the fact that they lived in hard vacuum, they were also totally deaf and blind, at least by most species' definition of the terms. Instead, they received external information through the spiritual currents and eddies that existed throughout a sublevel of reality that only they could truly understand. These currents carried information from the nearby environment, allowing the leviathans to 'see' and 'hear' their surroundings with an advanced form of telepathy. Unfortunately, these vacuum currents are blocked out by most gasses, rending star dragons helpless in any kind of atmosphere.

Tess was one such creature. Young by her kind's standards, she was the equivalent of a adolescent teenager, and liked nothing more than to escape from those bossy elders and rest out in uninhabited space, where the vacuum currents swirled lazily about in freedom, weaving around the few asteroids in this sparse part of the belt.

Tess slowly inhaled one of the currents, and then let it out in a sigh of pleasure. Now THIS was living. She had an asteroid that was perfect for a creature of her size and shape to rest on, and there wasn't another soul in sight. Stretching out her huge wings in blissful freedom, she closed her eyes and began to doze off.

It was then that she heard the rumbling. Tess raised her mute head and attuned her senses to find the source of the sound. Whatever it was, it was getting louder, and very quickly. She had barely finished the thought when a fighter craft roared right past her, sending the vacuum currents scattering haphazardly in every direction and giving Tess a nasty fright. She was still reeling from the encounter when two more fighters blasted past in close pursuit of the original, the rumbling of their engines receding as fast as they had approached. Tess gave the rapidly dwindling craft a furious stare, and was so distracted doing this that she barely ducked in time to avoid a fourth ship from taking off her head.

The fourth craft was larger than the other three, obviously a light cruiser of some kind, and sent the vacuum currents into the biggest frenzy yet. As the cruiser shot past, the edge of its engine trail clipped Tess's asteroid, sending it into a chaotic spin. Tess leaped from it just in time, and watched sadly as it crashed into a larger asteroid and disintegrated. Tess looked at the distant squadron, and released a flurry of angry telepathic expletives in their direction.

Of all the pilots in the squadron, only Claw hard Tess's rapidly fading obscenities. The half-dragon wingleader looked over his shoulder through the back of the domed cockpit in a brief search of the sender, but realised that his squad was too far away from the point of origin for him to spot her. Focusing his attention to more pressing matters, Claw looked back at his wingmates. Good, he thought, they were keeping up. Usually new recruits would lag behind, forcing him to reduce speed and wait for them to catch up.

He always brought the latest rookies along with him on scouting missions, which were relatively uneventful and involved several days of sitting in a light fighter flying escort for a bulky scanner cruiser, which lumbered from planet to planet and analysed them from orbit. This sort of mission was necessary whenever Discordia hyberjumped into a new solar system, and the tiresome job was always offloaded onto a mercenary team, since the military liked to send expendable units first into uncharted territory whenever possible. Whenever Claw's unit got the duty, he'd bring along his most inexperienced pilots, since the long, uneventful journeys gave them a chance to get accustomed to the controls of their newly issued crafts. It also showed them what a pilot's life can be like in real life, flying from waypoint to waypoint and resisting the urge to plunge their ship into a nearby sun in an attempt to make things more interesting.

Claw was a hybrid. His birth had resulted from the unusual union between a human and a dragon. There were many signs of this union on the half-dragon, the most prominent of these being his reptilian eyes, the line of small scales on the left side of this face, and of course, the large leathery wings on his back. Apart from that, he was mostly humanoid. He was of strong build, with long black hair tied back in a ponytail, and a short goatee. He wore a menacingly spiked suit of blood red plate mail, with each gauntlet sporting a pair of long blades, giving him the appearance of a demonic warrior, which the more paranoid numbers of society rumoured he actually was. The antiquated armour was magically enhanced to heal the wearer's injuries, and Claw never went anywhere without it, wearing it whether he was flying a ship or performing a ground mission with the marines in his squad. The back of the amour's cuirass was an intricate system of interlocking plates and straps, offering maximum protection from sneak attacks but also allowing his wings total freedom of movement.

Personality wise, Claw was often described as a hardass, and rightly so. He was strict, never smiled, and performed his duties with cold, unerring efficiency. He expected total obedience from his employees, but was not considered to by unnecessarily harsh or cruel. And, as possibly Discordia's best pilot, he was widely respected by those of all castes and professions. He had a reputation as a mercenary who could get the job done, and he and his squad was constantly being paid handsomely to perform the most important of tasks.

Such a pity, he thought, that scouting missions such as these were considered to be so important. Flicking on the comms channel, he requested a status report from his wingmates.

"Everything's fine here," yawned Ra'alik, absently batting the fluffy dice hanging from the forward ceiling of his ship with a furry claw. Ra'alik was a kali, a race of catpeople renowned for their natural agility, and notorious for their aloofness and ego. He was proving to be a capable pilot, but an arrogant one. Claw knew that one day Ra'alik would find out that he was not in fact invincible, and hoped that the feline would survive the lesson so that he could learn from it and become the elite pilot he had the potential to be.

"All is quiet on this side." That was Larissa, an elvan mystic who used her gift of foresight to assist her in battle. By sensing the spiritual upheaval in conflicts, she could detect opponents before they struck, and sometimes even predicted their moves before they made them. With training, she could very well become the squad's best flyer.

Claw turned his attention back to the small planet they were approaching. Judging by the clear blue oceans, healthy green and brown land masses and wispy clouds, the civilization there had not yet entered the dark, smog-filled days of industrial revolution. Meaning that the people there probably weren't ready yet to meet with a society such as Discordia's. Still, some of the most advanced species met so far lived on worlds appearing largely untouched.

"Reduce speed and commence scanning," he ordered, and the four ships swung around in perfect formation and entered orbit around the world. Dozens of lights on the scanner cruiser winked on as all the sensor dishes and antennae rotated around to face the planet, and began the slow process of gathering information from the surface.

"Okay," started the cruiser pilot. "I'm reading an oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere with a reasonably high water to land ratio. The largest land mass appears to be the one directly below us now." There was a pause as the cruiser processed the next report. "There's been a LOT of mana use here. Residue levels are off the scale. An apocalyptic event has occurred here within the last few centuries. Whatever it was, I'll bet it caused that massive underwater crater just off the northwest coast. Looks like that whole area used to be part of the main continent."

"And what is the civilization like?" asked Claw.

"Pre-industrial. The largest population areas have some pretty impressive cities, but most places seem to be simple villages and townships, a few of which are protected by a keep or a castle. There are a whole bunch of species down there, but humans appear to be the populous one."

"It doesn't sound like this world is ready for a visit from Discordia, does it?"

"I'd have to concur," the pilot replied. "It would likely do a lot of damage to their societies and beliefs if a starship larger than their world pulled up nearby to say hello. Plus my readings seem to indicate that the deities of this world are gearing up for something. They may not welcome sudden guests."

"Then let's move on." Claw sighed. "Okay, people, prepare to break orbit."

Larissa was the first to realise something was wrong. As she prepared to follow Claw's orders, a sudden wave of doom washed over her, a sense that was never wrong. Acting immediately, she yelled "Danger!" over the comm channel, while simultaneously bringing her ship into a steep climb in order to avoid whatever was coming after her.

Claw was the first to react to Larissa's warning. He too broke into a climb, following both Larissa's ship and her judgement.

Ra'alik, unfortunately, was not so lucky. Although he had reacted just as fast as Claw, he was not in the proper position to pilot his ship. Having abandoned alertness some time ago, he had been cruising in autopilot, putting his feet up on the dash and letting the ship fly itself. Thus, his feet didn't reach the pedals quickly enough for him to save his life, and when the incoming missile swarm appeared from nowhere and zeroed in on the squad, the two rockets aimed at him exploded right on the cockpit of his craft, killing him instantly and turning his vessel into an orange ball of flame.

The sensor pilot had reacted almost instantly, but his shi was far too bulky to avoid the swarm. Still, his position behind the squad gave him a few extra seconds, time that he used wisely.

Flicking on the long range communications, he sent a message back to Discordia. "This is scanner cruiser alpha 501! We're under attack from unidentified hostiles and need immediate assistance! Coordinates follow: 10, 15.... AAAAARRRRGH!!!!!"

His transmission was cut off as the missiles found their mark and destroyed his ship.

There were four missiles left, two for each survivor. The tow fighter craft ducked and climbed, rolled and dived, weaving erratic flight paths in an attempt to foul the missile's tracking computers. Claw lost one of his pursuers by managing to dive beneath it. Losing it's lock on his ship, the missile arced off into the distance, where it would continue to fly until it burned up it's fuel reserves.

Claw spared a glance over at Larissa, and realised that she wasn't going to make it. A failed manoeuvre on her part had resulted in her missiles approaching her from different angles. No matter which wa she turned, they would still hit.

"Larissa!" he shouted into the comm. "Eject!"

"But..."

"Do it!"

He watched in relief as the cockpit section of her ship broke off from the rest of her craft, moments before the missiles found their mark. Her ship was incinerated, but she was still alive, the self-contained escape pod spiralling away from the blast.

Leaving only Claw and the remaining missile. He renewed his effort to lose it, the missile and his ship locked in a deadly dance of speed and dexterity. A dance that, sadly, Claw lost.

His mistake was minor but costly. He pulled his ship into a climb half a second too early, allowing the missile time to project his new trajectory and act accordingly. It detonated next to his ship's right engine, crippling the shi and sending it into an uncontrollable roll. The explosion knocked Claw violently forward, smacking his head into the steel dash with a sickening thud. The last thing he saw before passing out was the world his craft was now barrelling towards at an incredible speed.

High above, two ships shimmered into existence and watched Claw's flaming vessel hurtle towards the planet.

"Should we goa after him?" asked the pilot of one.

"Nah," said the other. "His ship's disabled. Gravity will finish him off for us. My sympathies go out to the people on that planet, though. When that antimatter reactor of his hits the ground, it'll make a hell of a bang."

"And what about the escape pod?"

"The life support in the pod will run out long befoe help arrives. We'll take it with us. The boss will be pleased that we brought a prisoner back."

"Good idea." The first ship swooped down on Larissa's escape pod. A large grapple descended from the ship, picking up the pod and loading it into his cargo hold.

The second pilot looked down at the trail of flame left by Claw's ship as it entered the world's atmosphere. "We took them by surprise this time, but I bet we won't be as lucky in our next battle."

"Indeed. They were in light fighters escorting a scanner cruiser with no shields. The next wing we fight will be more significant, with more powerful ships. Still, we have successfully made our presence known. Discordia will soon learn to fear the wrath of the Black Sun."

The two ships turned away from the planet, and accelerated into deep space.

Tasslehoff Burrfoot lay on the huge picnic blanket, staring with wonder at the stars in the clear, night sky. Of course, he wasn't THE Tasslehoff Burrfoot. He was merely one of the literally thousands of kender named after the legendary Hero of the Lance. Unfortunately, so were his two brothers and at least three cousins, making family reunions very complicated and confusing indeed.

"Tasslehoff? I'd like you to meet your cousin Tasslehoff. And here's your uncle Tasslehoff. No, not you, I was speaking to Tasslehoff. No, not you, either!"

Combine dialogue such as this with a kender's natural curiosity, as well as about a dozen coats on the rack marked "property of Tasslehoff Burrfoot", and you will have a fairly accurate idea of how an average reunion went.

This particular Tasslehoff was presently stargazing, something he did regularly when the sky was clear of clouds. He was fascinated by stars, glittering like jewels in the night sky. Tasslehoff wanted to know why such precious things were restricted to the sky, and not kept on Krynn along with it's other treasures. When he presented this question to his friend, the friend snorted derisively and said that it was probably so that light fingered kender couldn't "borrow" them.

Sitting next to him on the blanket was his friend, a young gnome named Flashbang (or at least, that was his human given name. Stating his gnomish name would have filled this entire story), who was working with a strange device. This device looked vaguely like one of the looking glasses that were commonly carried by sailors, only much larger. Roughly twelve feet in length, the huge lens was mounted on a large tripod that used steam powered hydraulics to swivel the lens into the desired position. The lens also provided multiple levels of magnification by rotating itself in the telescope.

Of course, being a gnomish invention, there were problems. For example, although the eyepiece was fully movable, hypothetically allowing you to view any part of the sky while still standing in a comfortable position, the only position that lined up correctly with the internal mirrors so that you could actually see, was just above the rear of the telescope and to the right, positioned so the eyepiece pointed the other way. Thus, when the gnomish astronomer wanted to view a star that was particularly high up in the sky, he would often have to lie on the ground and face the opposite direction of the constellation he was actually looking at.

Also, the hydraulics in the base would often fail, locking the telescope in one direction. That was the current problem, as Flashbang sat on the ground and whacked his invention with a hammer in an attempt to position it correctly. It was his life quest to map the entire starscape, complete with movement patterns and constellation changes. Of course, this was blatantly impossible, but accepting that something couldn't be done was not exactly one of the gnome's key attributes.

Before his invention jammed, he was keeping one eye on the stars and another on his good silverware, which he always brought with him for some reason during these night-time picnics. Tasslehoff didn't know why Flashbang was so cautious with them. After all, there weren't that many thieves here on the Dragon Isles, especially on the fields just to the east of Aurialastican. Just to be safe, the kender pocketed the silver for safekeeping when the gnome's attention was diverted. You never knew when some thief might come along and swipe them.

Curled up on the grass on the other side of the blanket from the kender, gnome and food scraps was Celia. She was a young silver dragon, and thus wasn't interested in the small morsels of food her mortal friends were eating. In fact she'd be asleep were it not for the rhythmic sound of Flashbang's hammer on the telescope. It seemed that every time she tried to doze off, that gnome would resume his work with renewed energy, clanging away in an attempt to repair his machine.

"Must you do that now?" she yawned.

BANG! "You know very well," BANG! "That I must resume my research," BANG! "Before the constellation I'm trying to observe," BANG! "Drastically changes position in the night sky."

"Then why not view it with your own eyes, rather than with that ridiculous contraption?"

Flashbang could tell by the poorly concealed grin on her reptilian face that she was teasing him. Being still a very young dragon, Celia was a playful creature, and enjoyed seeing the gnome's face go all red with rage whenever she mocked one of his inventions.

I won't give her the satisfaction this time, he thought, but went red in the face anyway. Turning back to the telescope, he tried to conceal his irritation by working harder. But still the machine didn't budge. In an unusual fit of temper, he brought the hammer down as hard as he could.

It hit with a THUNK!, and the lens spinned around madly, finally coming to rest pointing absurdly almost straight up. There was a hissing sound as steam began pouring from the stand's hydraulics.

Celia was practically purring with amusement. "Now look what you've done," she chuckled. "You've broken it!"

Flashbang was fuming. "Confounded hydraulics!" He kicked the telescope.

Tasslehoff was desperately trying not to laugh, but was having a hard time at it. Celia's amusement was infectious, and soon he was openly giggling.

"I don't see what's so funny," Flashbang said. "I worked for a month on the hydraulics for this stand!"

"The funny part," proclaimed Celia, "Is that the entire machine is unnecessary. The only reason it needs a stand is because you've weighed it down with useless parts. If you could just use the lens..."

Flashbang snorted. Savages! To even suggest that he break his grand machine down to it's most straightforward and boring of uses. It was blasphemy!

Bending down to examine the telescope, the gnome happened to catch a brief glance a the eyepiece, which was surprisingly in the correct position. He looked up to be sure the anomaly wasn't just a problem with the lens. "Say," he said. "What on Krynn is that?"

The others looked up, and at first couldn't see what Flashbang was pointing out. Then they saw it.

A new star had appeared in the night sky. At least, it looked like a star. Only this one was bigger and brighter than the others. Every now and then, a speck of light would break off, and zoom away, disappearing quickly. It was like watching a slow, orange spark.

"It's amazing," breathed Celia.

"It's beautiful," gaped Tasslehoff

"It's getting closer," stated the gnome.

And indeed it was. The spark was growing by the minute, and it was soon obvious that it was actually some object falling from the sky.

"Whatever it is, it's heading toward us at a fantastic speed." Flashbang was agape. He had seen shooting stars before, but never one that was heading straight at him.

"I'm taking a look," Celia announced.

"Great! I'm coming too!" Tasslehoff ran towards the dragon.

"No," she said. "If I'm going to catch this thing, I'll be flying very high, and very fast. The force would rip any rider off my back."

Ignoring the kender's look of disappointment, Celia unfurled her wings, and leaped into the sky.

Claw awoke to chaos. The rear of his ship was ablaze, the main engines were dead, the damaged life support system was spewing smoke into the cockpit, and he was barrelling towards the surface of an unknown planet.

Reaching above the main console, he ripped at the lever concealed there. A shower of sparks informed him that the ejection system was fried. He briefly considered punching out the canopy and gliding to the ground with his wings, then decided against it. At this velocity, the G-forces would tear him apart.

An alarm blared into life, announcing his next problem. The fuel tank was on fire. If he kept it he would be vaporised when it exploded; if he dumped it he'd have no fuel for the retro thrusters to slow his descent. With a sigh he thumped the emergency jettison, and watched the tank arc away from the ship. It exploded not three seconds later.

The smoke in the cockpit was getting worse. Claw began to hack and cough, no longer able to see the controls. He was beginning to wonder what kind of funeral they would give him back on Discordia, when he felt Celia's presence still soaring up towards the ship.

Celia sensed the dragonkin's presence at the same time. She couldn't tell much, but knew that he was in trouble, and that he could sense her too.

PELASE HELP ME. The telepathic message startled her, and it was a few moments before she replied.

Who are you? What are you doing here?

I'M CLAW. NO TIME TO DISCUSS WHY IM HERE. SUFFICE TO SAY I'M IN TROUBLE. MY VESSEL IS CRIPPLED, AND I CANNOT SLOW MY DESCENT.

I will help you.

THANK YOU. BUT I'M NOT SURE WHAT WE CAN DO. THIS VESSEL IS VERY HEAVY. YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO SLOW IT DOWN YOURSELF.

I will try anyway.

Celia slowed, watching the ship come closer and waiting for the right moment. When the vessel screamed past, she locked her claws around it. She was violently jolted, but maintained her grasp, and was now clinging to the ship. Spreading her wings to their full extent, she tried to slow the vessel down.

Claw wasn't kidding when he said it was heavy. The scout craft weighed almost fifteen tons, and the velocity was making it even heavier. Still struggling, she happened to glance down through the canopy into the cockpit.

Claw had suddenly forgotten about all his problems. Looking up through the smoke, he gazed with childlike wonder at the beautiful creature staring down at him.

He had seen silver dragons before, of course. Being half dragon himself, the draconic community in Discordia had accepted him as their kin. He was even close friends with a number of them.

But his dragon side told him that this was the most magnificent being he had ever seen in all his life. Her long, leathery wings fully extended and slicing through the air, her scales gleaming in the starlight, her mane blowing wildly in the screaming wind; he couldn't take his eyes off her. And he could tell by the look in her gorgeous dark blue eyes, that she was experiencing the same problem with him.

A flash of light in the corner of his eye shook him out of his trance. Looking down at the ground far below, the many pinpricks of light gave him a sudden warning of the stakes he was dealing with here.

Although it was a small vessel, Claw's ship carried with it a very potent antimatter reactor, which powered the consoles and life support systems. If he hit the ground at this velocity, the generator would erupt, making a crater fifty miles wide. Everything within that area would be obliterated. Even in the least populated of areas, the effects were devastating. And this wasn't an unpopulated area.

Claw's ship was aimed straight at Aurialastican, the City of Gold and capital of the Dragon Isles.

Claw relayed this information to Celia.

Is there anything we can do?

PERHAPS THERE IS. THERE IS ENOUGH FUEL LEFT IN THE THRUSTERS FOR ABOUT A SIX SECOND BURN. IT WON'T HELP ON ITS OWN, BUT WITH YOUR HELP WE MAY BE ABLE TO SLOW THIS SHIP DOWN SIFFICIENTLY ENOUGH FOR IT TO GLIDE TO THE GROUND OUTSIDE THE CITY. A LIGHTER IMPACT SUCH AS THHAT WOULD NOT DESTROY THE REACTOR.

Celia couldn't understand the technical terms, but Claw sent her mental images of what he meant.

I'm willing to try it.

THE TIMING WILL HAVE TO BE PRESCISE. TOO LATE AND IT WON'T MAKE A DIFFERENCE. TOO EARLY AND GRAVITY WILL CANCEL OUT THE EFFECT OF THE SHORT GLIDE.

I understand.

Claw placed his finger on the retro burn switch, and prayed to Firejewel, dragon goddess of Light, that this would work. He had done similar scenarios in Discordia's simulators, but they didn't compare to the real thing. The G-forces, the screaming wind, and the choking smoke all testified to the sim's inadequacies.

Doing a quick calculation in his head, he estimated that the burn would have to occur at about eight hundred feet for it to be effective. Waiting for the right moment was agony. He broke through several layers of wispy cloud cover, as the ground got closer and closer. He thought he saw other dragon on the way down, but they were either unwilling or afraid to help. They couldn't have helped anyway. Claw's ship was too small for another dragon to get a grip on.

The altimeter continued to drop. The shrieking air reached a crescendo, as the ship was pulled faster and faster towards the ground. Both dragon and half dragon tensed, knowing that the moment was near.

And then it was upon them.

Celia could feel it the instant the retros fired. The ship got lighter, began to slow very quickly. She grabbed both sides of the vessel firmly, spread her wings again, and pulled. She could feel immediately that they were changing direction. The ship's front lifted, moving slowly upwards until it was parallel with the horizon.

They levelled out just above the rooftops, heading east across the city at a fantastic speed. Now they could see the people below, pointing and yelling, running in all directions to get out of the way of the duo.

They were on the eastern outskirts of the city when the retros sputtered and died. Instantly the ship felt heavier again, and despite Celia's efforts, began to descend.

LET GO. THE SHIP WILL GLIDE NOW.

Celia released her grip and flapped her wings, soaring clear of the vessel. Indeed it appeared to be gliding. It was still losing altitude, but at a slow pace. And since the larger buildings were already cleared, it should make it into the fields.

That's when Celia noticed the statue. The tall, majestic statue of a gold dragon, that was right in Claw's flight path. And, with no fuel left, he had no way of avoiding it.

He was just low enough to clip the top of the statue, knocking off its head with a loud, jarring crack. The impact knocked his ship out of it's glide and sent it into a helpless roll.

The ship ploughed into the ground just outside the city. It cut a long, deep trench in the ground, finally coming to rest with a metallic sigh.

The cockpit's dome slowly began to open. There was a sudden harsh scraping sound as the dome broke off its warped hinges. Claw, battered and bleeding heavily, crawled out; dragging painfully behind what was obviously a broken leg. A gash on his forehead blinded his left eye with a constant flow of blood, and a very bad, throbbing pain in his skull told of a possible concussion. He heard a flapping of wings, and turned to see Celia land nearby through his blurry vision. He looked into her beautiful blue eyes, offered a brief, triumphant smile, and passed out.