Is this an update, or are you just imagining it? Unless I'm imagining I'm posting a new chapter, then it really is a new chapter! -cheers- Sorry for the very prolonged wait, to readers old and new. Real life and my fickle muse are cruel, cruel mistresses.
Disclaimer: I really, really wish I was James Cameron, so that way I could be making money castles out of my millions. Or Chris Paolini, so I could at least have a popular book series, if not claim to TWO movies that grossed over a billion dollars. Alas, I am neither, and thus only own any original material not derived from either source.
Several minutes, and several clumsy trips and near-falls from a still very disorientated Murtagh Redman later, the two drivers had finally made it to the wing of the Pioneer that housed the labs. Or, at least Eragon assumed it was the scientific wing. All the people around him were the scrawny and brainy types that had rarely ventured outside back on good ol' Planet Earth. At least not all of them were wearing white coats and glasses. (Though, considering that Murtagh was barely older than himself and the kind of estrogen bait most sane women would fawn over, Eragon had begun to realize that stereotypes weren't all they were cracked up to be.)
Eragon blinked as he curiously surveyed the chaos around him. Being in a wheelchair made him automatically safe from the pushing and bumping crowds, allowing him a comfortable view of the activity. Murtagh, however, had to brace himself against the tide of shoving and frantic bodies. Scientists and other workers shouted back and forth at each other: Had the Walkers been cleared for unloading? Had the last person that had been tinkering with the new surveying equipment bound for Carvahall safely packed back up? Were the transportation tanks for the new Avatars being readied?
"Where should we go?"
Considering how reliable Murtagh's information (both wanted and completely unnecessary) had proven, Eragon naturally turned to the trained professional for guidance. Judging at how the other Avatar Driver looked around, hopelessly lost in a crowed hallway, the former marine figured he should have placed his trust in another Dragon-obsessed scholar. That was when he decided to take matters into his own hands. Wheeling bravely forward, Eragon resorted to the time-tested tactic of just wandering aimlessly around until he stumbled upon his destination, or someone who could actually direct him to it, by sheer dumb luck.
As his random and untimely streaks of luck would have it, it only took three minutes of just riding around until Murtagh solved the problem for him. Raising a hand in greeting, he smiled and weaved through the crowds to a woman standing next to a sealed doorway. By the slightly strained smile on Murtagh's face, Eragon assumed this lady to be Dr. Nasuada Hounsou.
Seeing the two men approaching, the woman gave a slight smile in return. She looked to be in her late twenties to early thirties, biologically slightly older than Murtagh. Her skin was dark brown, and her long hair a silky ebony. So long as Eragon kept the fact that Nasuada was chronologically almost six years older than that, she was quite a pretty woman.
"Ah, Murtagh. About time you showed up. I had begun to think that you had been sent to the med ward because of standard cryo-chamber sickness." Her dark brown eyes took note of his pale face, trembling legs, and uneaten ration bars. That small smile momentarily turned into a rueful grin. "Good to see that I was wrong."
Murtagh was too tired to banter, and allowed himself to be teased without putting up a fight. "Uh huh. Nasuada, this is the novice everyone's been talking about."
Eragon tried not to scowl at the term. He had been forced to undergo the initiation into a tightly knit group once before, and had struggled until he had earned respect and acceptance from his fellow marines, just as they had also had to earn it from him. There had been the jeering from the experienced veterans returning for a second or third tour. Eragon would be damned if he just allowed himself to passively sit back and take more hazing, no matter how unintentional or light it may be.
"I'm Eragon," he said, holding out a hand. "Eragon Rider. Roran was my brother."
Nasuada nodded as she shook his offered hand with her free one, for the other one held an electronic tablet she had been furiously writing on before she had spotted Murtagh. "Yes. I know you two were identical twins, or else you wouldn't have been able to use his Avatar." Unlike many others, she had the tact to avoid ogling at his crippled legs, or being insensitive enough to ask about how he had gotten his injuries. "Despite your severely condensed training, I welcome you to the Avatar Program nevertheless, on behalf of Dr. Angela Ripley and all of the other members of the project."
Murtagh's brow furrowed. "Ripley? Dr. Hawthorne got married?"
Nasuada winced. "Divorced, actually. She had just begun the process of changing back to her maiden name by the time we took off. I've been in and out of cryo-sleep for years, keeping an eye on the development of each and every single Avatar. I've actually been up completely since we entered the solar system. Admittedly, I would have liked to keep those weeks off for a little longer, but I guess the higher-ups just wanted a professional awake full time to watch out for their twenty billion dollars."
Eragon did the math over in his head. Each Avatar had cost about five billion to create and fully mature. Millions alone were spent trying to get Dragon sperm to fertilize human eggs, or vice versa. Then would come the problems of ensuring enough human DNA was present for the body to be compatible with its controller, but with enough Dragon still in there to ensure the entire embryo remained viable. Accelerating the Avatar's growth over four times the normal speed, and keeping the developing science experiment free from unpleasant mutations and sicknesses, was entirely another challenge altogether. Not to mention implanting a neural device into the entire thing's empty brain to make it controllable.
Nasuada quickly scribbled down on her tablet before turning to the door and quickly pressing a code in. When the doors to the lab hissed open, she entered, Murtagh right behind her. Eragon also followed, though far less composed. The sleek, shiny lab that opened up before him was something right out of Star Quest, or whatever that old science fiction show Roran had been fascinated with was called. They were in a small room, with glass walls separating them from the main lab. Eragon knew enough about science to know that the walls sealed out foreign contaminates that could have inflicted the priceless specimens beyond.
"Katrina Butcher arrived some time before you. If I know Orrin, he likely is still holding her as a captive audience." Nasuada rolled in her eyes as she typed in yet another numerical code to gain access to the main lab. "Get that man started on Alagaesia, and you'll never get him to shut up. I'm just glad I was asleep most of the time he was up, the two of us worked different shifts, with the scientists permanently stationed on the Pioneer looking after our babies for us the rest of the time."
Eragon arched a skeptical brow. "Can you call giant lizards 'babies'?"
"I can, Eragon, I can. All four of those Avatars you're about to see are ones I helped to conceive and grow." She grinned jokingly. "While you're in those scaly new bodies of yours, boys, you might as well get used to calling me Momma." Eragon and Murtagh both flushed scarlet at this, sputtering and gaping at her like dying fish. Nasuada only calmly made her way into the main lab. "Hey, Orrin, Katrina, the late arrivals finally showed! Turned up they didn't get shoved out of airlocks after all."
Dr. Orrin Kingsleigh had also been assigned at Carvahall to replace one of two scientists that would finally be going back to Earth on the Pioneer's return trip. He was an olive-skinned, dark-haired man with a passion for science that worried even Murtagh. Considering that Eragon had grown up with an academic for a twin brother, he had known how to converse with Orrin without setting off an eruption of scientific crap he really couldn't care less about. So long as he remembered to do so in the future, Eragon was positive he and Dr. Kingsleigh would get along just fine.
He had actually recognized Katrina Butcher. Roran and her had gone together like peanut butter and jelly laced with super glue. Toward the end, Roran had even started bring her over to his weekly dinners with Eragon. They worked together, helping each other out in simulators and comprehensive tests of Alagaesia. What little free time was spent avidly discussing even more science, be it about Dragons or debating over how to best solve the ever-growing amount of problems the entire worldwide population of twenty billion faced. Eragon had expected something good to come out of their relationship, for Roran had always been incredibly awkward and uncomfortable around women. Hell, the universe had practically thrown him a fucking bone when he had met the beautiful and bright Katrina Butcher.
And then had come that fateful shooting in the convenient store. The last time Katrina and Eragon had spoken at been at Roran's wake, where they had shared in their sorrow and condolences. She hadn't the heart to attend the actual cremation. Eragon couldn't blame her for not going, for not many women would be able to bear the sight of seeing the man who could have been their soul-mate incinerated in some cold and impersonal facility.
"Come on, now," Orrin interrupted almost giddily. He was practically bouncing up and down in excitement, and Eragon wouldn't have thought him out of place amongst a class of hyperactive kindergartners. "Don't you two want to see your Avatars? It's been almost six years, for science's sake. Go and take a peek! We won't be transferring them to the portable tanks for some time."
Feeling a lump in his throat, and hearing his heart hammering with both trepidation and excitement, Eragon turned to stare at the four massive tanks that took up the far side of the lab. Several other scientists were walking along them, checking monitors or just simply readying the specimens for transfer. Each tank was filled with a viscous reddish fluid that obscured the Avatar within from view. But light coming from inside was just strong enough to illuminate the alien forms hovering inside the glass, stirring weakly with involuntary movements.
"Go on," Katrina prompted, gray eyes friendly. "If you thought the news pictures of Dragons were striking, you should see the real deal up close.
Eragon hadn't actually seen a Dragon's image in quite a long time. Prior to being recruited by the RDA, he had always turned off his television in his disgust when another news segment about damned Alagaesia had come on. His memories of them were rather fuzzy, as was that of his brief experience with the simulator. He just knew that Dragons were big, and scaly, and had claws and fangs and all sorts of extra appendages he would have to become accustomed to. Fortunately, the strange shape just including functioning legs.
"In these Avatars you'll notice more variation in appearances than in normal Dragons," Orrin explained to him. "The human DNA sometimes manifests itself in different ways, depending on which dominant and recessive genes win out. Also, don't expect the scale colors to make any sense. The gene variation to them is so complicated even we haven't fully unraveled it yet. Gods, we don't even know if your own hair color plays a factor or not."
Eragon wheeled over to the first tank, straining to see the massive form suspended within. The body was humanoid, but covered in ebony-black scales. It was only around six or seven feet tall, but the long, serpentine neck added on a good foot or two. A long tail branched out from the spine, and there was a folded, leathery bat-like wing on each shoulder-blade. Each and foot thankfully had four fingers and a thumb, though each was tipped with a claw sharp enough to tear straight through unprotected flesh. Two slender, graceful dark brown horns graced the dragon's head, curving slightly forwards. By the Avatar's lack of spikes and its slender body, Eragon guessed it was female.
Guessed, because there was no visible way of knowing.
"That's right," Nasuada teased, coming forward to stand beside him. "Dragons keep their personal areas covered most of the time. Considering the brutal environment they call home, it's probably for the best. And Dragons are not mammals, if you're wondering about it. They don't produce milk, so no need for mammary glands. This is my Avatar." She patted the glass that separated the two affectionately. "Usually scientists don't get their own personal Avatars, but my higher-ups wanted to experiment. The embryo was created with as much Dragon DNA we felt comfortable injecting. Human DNA may have a detrimental effect on on the Avatar as a whole. In addition to looking after the normal Avatars, I'm supposed to assess my own and remark upon the differences to it."
Eragon arched a brow, confused as to what company would blow five billion dollars to create an Avatar that was as Draconic as possible. However, considering that insane company was also the one signing his paycheck, he kept his criticism quiet. Conspiracy theorists would probably be looking for another improbable reason for Nasuada's vague answers. He honestly couldn't care about it less, for his attention had turned to the other three Avatars.
The one next to Nasuada's must have been Katrina's. It had copper-colored scales and barely protruding horns, but its face was framed in small spikes. There was barely even a snout. Orrin wasted out no time in pointing out the Avatar's crest of darker brown hair. Scientists theorized the crest to be the result of a recessive gene, one that supposedly made the Dragon more attractive during courtship. Humans also preferred certain traits in potential mates, although their tastes rested on things other than hair.
"Please tell me this one is mine," Eragon pleaded, gaping at the Avatar within.
Where Katrina's and Nasuada's Avatars had been obviously feminine, this one was the shining example of the direct opposite. Its scales was a wine-red, mottled with an even darker shade of russet, its body a good foot taller and several times more muscular than the female Avatars. Two bone-white fangs protruded from a powerful snout, and two massive horns curled like a ram's crowned it's head. While the Avatar practically had no spikes or claws, Eragon really didn't care. The sheer size of the body and horns was more than enough for him.
"Sorry, Eragon, it's his." Nasuada nodded to a very smug Murtagh. "I'm sure you can use logical deduction to figure out which one is, though."
Eragon wheeled over to the last tank, unsure of what to think of the body floating within. Human DNA normally had a noticeable influence on the Avatars. Nasuada's small and slender one showed the best human proportions. Katrina's barely had a snout, in addition to a lack of spikes and horns. For the size of Murtagh's beast of an Avatar, it had very human hands and feet. Its wings were almost embarrassingly small. Eragon's Avatar was almost indistinguishable from a real Dragon.
His Avatar was smaller than Murtagh's, with more of a wiry build than sheer muscle. Its scales seemed to be dark blue through the red liquid, mottled with a shade of electric blue. Very prominent spikes wreathed his face and even traveled down his back, ending in a small club on his tail. Between the horns, covering a few of the spikes, was his very own mane of darkish hair. The Avatar possessed mean-looking talons on thankfully five-fingered hands and feet. Perhaps most unsettling was the face, which tapered out into a long muzzle. The Avatar's mouth was partially open, exposing frontal fangs far sharper than what were normal.
"Are you sure my Avatar wasn't altered?"
Orrin shook his head. "Genetics are a fickle thing, Rider. Dominant and recessive genes duke it out all the time. Our program really focuses on melding Dragon and human DNA only to the point where it is compatible for driver control. Beyond that, natural selection of genes has free reign. The only ones purposefully turned off are those that made Avatars more susceptible to illnesses, and the ones for fertility."
"Of course," Katrina chimed in. "Can you just imagine what would happen if these Avatars were sexually mature? The hormones alone would be enough to distract most drivers from their work, which is really, really bad on such a dangerous moon like Alagaesia. Add in the chance of conceiving, and you have a whole new set of issues. Would the hybrid offspring produced be viable? Would they be able to breed? How many genetic mutations would they have, how could their truly human parents care for them? If the offspring were created without sentient brains, like their Avatar parents, what could we do with their bodies? Not to mention the possibility of producing with a native-"
"Ugh!" Eragon gagged, not even wanting to comprehend the hideous possibilities anymore. He seriously regretted ever bringing the issue up. Honestly, who really cared if his Avatar had a little bit more lizard DNA in it than Roran's? "Too much information."
Murtagh glowered at him. It was obvious all the scientists in the room weren't happy that the jar-headed marine couldn't process the 'intriguing' hypothetical disasters they all loved to think up. Eragon should know, his brother had tested out the worst of his doomsday theories on him.
There was suddenly a violent jarring beneath them, and everyone braced themselves against it. Except poor Katrina, who was still just woozy enough to have her balance upset and come tipping forward into one of the tanks, sending just about everyone present into hysterics for both her and the five billion dollar meat puppet she had almost damaged. Eragon took the opportunity to stealthily roll out of the room and back into sanity. He supposed the ship had just landed at Ilirea, its first scheduled stop.
With at least an hour of unloading ahead, not to mention the additional stop at Therinsford before reaching Carvahall, Eragon just did the sensible thing: Wheeling himself over to a quiet corner, he closed his eyes for a final nap that would hopefully relieve him of any lingering drowsiness before his arrival at his destination, and tried not to think about the Dragon's face he had seen through the tank's walls would soon be worn as his own.
The dvergar had been warned to stay clear of this land; they had been warned countless times to never venture too far from their city of barren stone. She had seen for herself what they had done to the surrounding earth, of how they had torn down ancient forests and scarred the ancient forests to dig for a common rock they saw as precious. 'Dvergar' was an accurate name for their despicable kind, for they were as small, ugly, and greedy as the creatures of Skulblakalegend they had been named after.
Allowing the dappled shadows to hide her, the young huntress carefully drew her bow and waited for her chance to strike. She had no worries about being spotted, for the darkness the surrounding mountains cast perfectly concealed even her glittering sapphire hide from sight. Her sharp blue eyes scanned the crowded undergrowth, a question going across the mental link with the one other she had recruited for this mission.
A message of agreement was sent back along the connection. Two intense crimson eyes suddenly emerged from the foliage, burning like flames against the green. Then the owner of the eyes disappeared as easily as she, like he had never been.
She couldn't help but allow herself a pleased hum. Perfect.
The dvergar were clever little animals. Their large and clunky machines were now more armored than ever before, designed to specifically withstand against the strength of a fully grown Skulblaka and the tips of their sharpest arrows. Cunning as the weak-skinned savages were, though, they were not nearly intelligent enough to outfox the resourcefulness of a Bjartskular warrior. Especially not when two of them had joined forces solely for this task.
Arrows rained down upon the mechanical scout that had been sent out to search for more land to desecrate. Its thick covering would have protected it, had it not been for the crown of intense flame that adorned every single last arrow. Everything was too hot for the inanimate abomination's delicate innards to withstand. The machine stopped dead in its tracks, charred and melted beyond repair from even the dvergar. Considering that she knew such scouts were so valuable, she desperately hoped the intruders would learn to keep their expensive toys at home next time.
Mission accomplished, the two warriors dashed off into the mountains. They were just visible as streaks of sapphire-blue and crimson-red as the darted past an open clearing, before vanishing like ghosts into the wilderness.
Names: Looking back now, I realized that Angela Hawthorne also happened to be the name of a character of a television show. This was completely unintentional, for I only wanted to give Angela the last name of a tough, prickly plant that related to her herbalist career in canon. Let's just say that Angela went back to maiden name of Ripley during those six years, because that was my second choice for her last name anyway. If anyone else is interested, Murtagh Redman comes from him being the Rider of a red dragon, Orrin Kingsleigh is obvious, Katrina's real father was a butcher, and Hounsou was the last name of the actor that played Nasuada's father in the movie.
Dragon Anatomy: For this story's sake, I've made the Dragons humanoid. Why? First, Dragons here can't telepathically communicate with humans, so they they need mouths that can at least approach making human speech. History also tells us humans are not the most tolerant of creatures. If the Dragons look vaguely humanoid and are capable of speech, then the RDA will have to play diplomat to appease the public. But with large, bestial dragons that never stop growing and can't communicate? Forget about it. In addition, I made the dragons mortal and gave them a slightly more realistic lifespan. An immortal creature reaches sexual maturity at six months and can crank out offspring until the end of time? Not gonna fly here. Dragons in this story reach physical maturity around the same age as a human does, and live only to about two hundred years old. Which makes the relationship between Eragon and Saphira a hell of a lot less awkward and squicky.
Avatar DNA: Avatar DNA usually contains more human DNA of its driver than necessary, in order to ensure a completely seamless and perfect linking. But once the basic connections are secured, its far cheaper to just let nature have control over the rest. That's why there's such a variation in Avatars, for it all depends on which genes are dominant and where. In addition to being genetically protected against most diseases, all Avatars are engineered to be infertile to prevent unnecessary complications such as hormones and the birth of hybrids. All Avatars are recognizable for their five-fingered hands and toes, small wings, and the modified human clothing they typically wear.
Project Chameleon: An offshoot of Project Morpheus, which first worked out the concept of mind-controlled Avatars, and of Project Wyrm, the current kind of Avatars developed and used on Alagaesia in the Avatar Project. Subjects of Project Chameleon resemble and are as genetically similar to actual Dragons as physically possible. Dr. Nasuada Hounsou is the first volunteer to be performing tests on a fully developed specimen. The project aims for Avatars with far better strength and stamina for working on Alagaesia, perhaps even gaining enough control of the vestigial wings to allow gliding. Incorporation of less human DNA makes the entire process cheaper. The main purpose of the Chameleon Project is rumored to be the acquiring of the "sixth sense" true Dragons have, ability used to somehow communicate with each other over vast distances.
Dvergar: Originally a Skulblaka legend about a race of short, wrinkled, bearded creatures who used to inhabit the mountains of Alagaesia. They were greedy creatures who wanted only to strip the mountains of their wealth, and were constantly at war with the Skulblaka clans. Eventually the dvergar were supposedly purged from the world. Humans bare an uncanny resemblance to the mythical beings, in addition to sharing their grabby and intrusive nature. The name itself can have negative or neutral connotations, depending on the speaker, for Skulblaka were just looking for a name from their own language to call their strange new neighbors by.
Bjartskular Clan: The Brightscales clan is one of the biggest clans on Alagaesia, controlling much of the Carthungave, or the Spine. Their territory is located just next to Dvergardras (Dwarf City), pulling them into most of the border and resources conflicts. The Brightscales clan was originally friendly to humans in the past, but their stance has switched to a far more hostile one over the past ten years.