Dragonsblood

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Dragonsblood Page 40

by Todd McCaffrey


  “It’s not that,” Seamus demurred. “Benden makes more sense.” At the others’ questioning looks, the big engineer explained, “I’ve looked over the survey maps of the Weyr. There aren’t many places to hide a new structure. But there is one good place, except . . .”

  “What?” M’hall prompted.

  “It is situated near a fault line,” Seamus replied. “I can almost guarantee that the rooms will be cut off from the Weyr by a rockslide within the century.” He winked at them and added conspiratorially, “Or sooner, if need be.”

  “But why—” Emorra began.

  “Oh!” Tieran interrupted. “I see.” He turned to Emorra. “We build the rooms and then cut them off from the rest of the Weyr so that no one will disturb them until they’re needed.”

  “But how will anyone know about them?” Emorra asked. Tieran shrugged.

  “So you’d be wanting the stonecutters, then?” Seamus asked. He looked at each of them in turn, then added, “Because if you do, you’ll have to fight Mendin to get them.”

  Mendin consoled himself that he still had two of the stonecutters and that possession was nine-tenths of the law. All he needed was to find sufficiently trained personnel to use them—and quickly. He could see himself apologizing oh-so-obsequiously to the Weyrleaders: “Oh, I am sorry! If only I’d known beforehand that you wanted them.”

  Yes, that apology would do nicely, Mendin decided. He was about to call over one of his minions when he was distracted by a commotion at the door.

  It was his oldest son, Leros, whom Mendin had left to mind the Hold.

  “The stonecutters are gone,” Leros whispered when they were seated and the others in the room had returned to their own conversations. “Dragonriders from Benden Weyr took them.”

  For a moment blind fury coursed through Mendin’s veins. How dare they!

  He reasserted an iron grip on himself before his emotions were displayed on his face.

  “I see,” he said aloud, furiously racking his brain for a way to turn this to his advantage. He looked up at Leros. “I think that Fort Hold should throw its full support behind this project.”

  He turned to the others and raised his voice so that all could hear. “I can see now that this will be a great legacy to our descendants and nothing less than they would expect of us. Just as our ancestors bequeathed us the dragons for our defense, so we should bequeath these medical rooms for the defense of the dragons.”

  The other Lord Holders exchanged looks as they digested this change of tack on Mendin’s part.

  “I agree,” Malon of Tillek seconded firmly. “Pern is nothing without the dragons.”

  And so it was decided.

  “You are the most well-trained doctor we have,” Wind Blossom began again, hoping that somehow repetition might alter Janir’s response.

  “In human physiology, Wind Blossom,” Janir protested again. “I know nothing of the dragons or the Pernese genetic code.”

  “But you’ve learned so much that is applicable through your medical training,” Wind Blossom replied. “It wouldn’t take you long to pick up on the Pernese genetics.”

  “But I am the head physician,” Janir objected. “I will never have the time you’ll need.” He took a deep breath and shook his head in wonderment at her obstinacy. “I will have too many patients to deal with and there is no substitute. In fact, I should be training my replacement this very moment.”

  Wind Blossom raised her eyebrows.

  “I should be training three replacements,” Janir corrected himself in response to her unspoken query. “And that will also eat into my time.” He glanced over at Emorra and Tieran. “You are going to have to use them—they know more about this than I do.”

  Wind Blossom deflated with a sigh. “I suppose you are right,” she conceded. “But if I cannot convince them . . .”

  “Then ask M’hall,” Janir replied. “I think he’ll convince them.”

  “If he can’t, then I want to know that you’ll take their place,” Wind Blossom declared.

  “If they won’t work with you, Wind Blossom, we’ll talk again,” Janir replied.

  Just then M’hall entered the room, wearing a victorious look.

  Late that evening, well after the Holders and Weyrleaders had unanimously agreed to use the last of the stonecutters to create a medical laboratory at Benden Weyr, and had agreed that Wind Blossom would be responsible for its contents, Emorra found herself in the faculty lounge along with Tieran. Wind Blossom had gone to her bed much earlier, after informing Tieran and Emorra that she would require their help on the project.

  Cool, clear Benden wine had been poured liberally in celebration.

  “Tieran,” Emorra said as the effects of the wine belatedly registered on her, “I’ve drunk more than I should. We’ll need our rest. Mother will be certain to want to start early in the morning.”

  Tieran looked reluctantly at his half-full glass, tossed it back in one gulp, and rose. “May I escort you to your room?”

  Emorra dimpled, and allowed Tieran to help her to her feet.

  Tieran realized that he was taller than Emorra; he couldn’t remember when that had happened. Her cheeks were flushed with wine and her eyes—her almond eyes were warm and enticing.

  “If I made a pass at you,” he suddenly asked, “would you mind?”

  “No,” Emorra said softly, leaning toward him.

  Tentatively, Tieran leaned forward and kissed her.

  In the two days since the council, Wind Blossom appropriated a classroom, turned a surgery into a lab, and slept for a grand total of six hours—Tieran knew because he’d gone to sleep after she did, and he’d gotten a bit more than five hours of sleep.

  They were in the classroom now. Wind Blossom was at the blackboard, chalk in hand, writing down their suggestions.

  “The dragons must save themselves,” Wind Blossom pronounced. Tieran bit back a retort as he noticed the look of intense concentration on her face.

  “Are you saying that they will build an immunity?” Emorra asked as Wind Blossom’s silence lengthened. “But we have no way of knowing the mortality rate of this infection.”

  “We do not know enough about this illness,” Wind Blossom declared. “The people in the future know about it, but we do not.”

  She paused to let the others comment, but Tieran and Emorra only nodded in wary agreement.

  “We know how to alter the genetic code of the dragons, and we know how to create specimens and map genetic material, but they do not.”

  Again, she paused for comment and again, there was none.

  “They cannot bring their knowledge to us without also bringing the infection itself,” Wind Blossom continued. “So we must bring our knowledge to them.”

  “But M’hall said the dragonriders couldn’t—” Tieran protested.

  At the same time Emorra cried, “That would infect our dragons, too!”

  Wind Blossom rapped the chalk on the blackboard, the noise echoing harshly around the room, until the other two were silent.

  “We will teach them,” she declared. “We will teach them how to collect specimens, use the mapper, and construct genetic code.”

  Tieran sat back again in his chair, his brows furrowed thoughtfully. Beside him, Emorra gnawed her lip unconsciously, her eyes closed in concentration.

  “You mean we’ll make classrooms?” Tieran asked after a while. “To teach people chemistry, biology, and technology?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t see how we can do it.”

  Wind Blossom frowned at him. “Teach them how to identify the infection and how to engineer an antigen,” she said. “That is not hard.”

  “So you mean to explain everything in layman terms,” Emorra said. She cocked her head in consideration. “It could work.”

  Tieran gave Wind Blossom a penetrating stare. “It bothers me that there has never been a report of illness in the fire-lizards. I thought it was an axiom that an ecosystem will always evolve.”


  “You’re saying that something should have come up in eight years?” Emorra asked, frowning in disbelief.

  “No, in fifty years,” Tieran answered. “In the same time, we’ve had a major epidemic nearly wipe us humans out, and yet the fire-lizards, dragons, watch-whers, wherries, and, for all I know, tunnel-snakes seem not to have suffered from any form of viral, bacterial, or fungal assaults.”

  “I see what you mean,” Emorra replied.

  “You are forgetting Pernese genetic code,” Wind Blossom said, shaking her head in disappointment.

  “No, I’m—” Tieran said hotly, only to cut himself off. “Oh,” he admitted, going slowly pink, “I am.”

  “What about it?” Emorra asked, looking from Tieran to Wind Blossom and back for an explanation. Wind Blossom gestured to Tieran to answer.

  Tieran took a breath. “Well, you have to remember how Pernese genetic code differs from ours.”

  “Mmm?” Emorra murmured, gesturing for him to continue.

  “Well, our genetic code is composed of two strands of DNA joined in a double helix,” Tieran said. “Whereas Pernese genetic code is composed of three strands of what we call PNA joined in a twisted triangle.

  “Two of the strands complement the major strand,” he went on. He walked up to the blackboard and gestured to Wind Blossom, who surrendered the chalk. With a nod of thanks, Tieran turned to the blackboard and began to draw. He drew a series of triangles stacked on top of each other, each twisted slightly out of line with the one preceding it. The corners of the triangles he filled in with dots. He proceeded to label the dots: A, A’, N; B, N, B’; C, C’, N.

  On another part of the board he drew the long-familiar double helix of DNA, creating a twisted ladder and labeling the “rungs” on one half of the ladder, A, C, G, T while labeling the other side of the ladder T, G, C, A.

  Tieran jabbed a finger at each of the letters in turn. “A stands for adenine, C for cytosine, G for guanine, and T for thymine.

  “They are grouped in threes and each group of three is called a codon,” he said. “Each codon codes either an amino acid or is a special marking signifying the start or end of a genetic sequence.

  “Because there are four possible amines taken three at a time, there are sixty-four possible variations, but terrestrial DNA only encodes twenty amino acids along with one start and one stop codon.”

  “I remember now,” Emorra said. “It always seemed wasteful.”

  “It allows room for expansion,” Tieran said. “It also allows for errors or mutations to creep in. Typically there are six to seven hundred mutations in each newborn.”

  “So that’s why we get sick,” Emorra remarked.

  “More because the viruses and bacteria that attack us mutate than because of our mutations,” Tieran replied. “But sometimes it is our mutations that cause problems.”

  He turned to the twisted triangle of the Pernese genetic code.

  “Here, A, B, and C are only simple names for the different Pernese amines that make up their genetic material,” Tieran said. He pointed to the dot marked A’. “A-prime, here, is merely the amine that binds to A, and so on for B-prime and C-prime.”

  “So what’s N?” Emorra asked. “Null?”

  “Exactly,” Tieran agreed. “One of the fundamental differences between Pernese genetic material and terrestrial DNA is that instead of having two strands that are mirror images of each other, PNA has a main strand and two other strands that alternately mirror the main strand.”

  “So does PNA have four pairs in a codon?” Emorra asked.

  Tieran shook his head. “No, just three like our DNA.”

  Emorra raised her eyebrows at that. “So that means that PNA can only code twenty-seven variations.”

  “That’s right,” Tieran said. “Of course, we only need twenty-two out of the sixty-four that can be coded with DNA, so PNA is actually more efficient.”

  “They code twenty amino acids?” Emorra asked, looking at Wind Blossom.

  “No, they code twenty-three amino acids,” Wind Blossom corrected.

  “They also code two different START and STOP sequences,” Tieran remarked. “That leaves no spare codings.”

  “The combination of the three strands makes it harder for PNA to be split,” Wind Blossom said.

  “Wouldn’t that be bad?” Emorra asked. “As I recall, whenever genetic material is accessed, the strands are separated and a segment is copied.”

  “That’s not exact,” Wind Blossom replied chillingly. “But it is sufficient for our current discussion.” She waved for Tieran to continue. Stifling an impulse to argue with her, he turned back to Emorra.

  “The fact that Pernese genetic material—”

  “Didn’t you say to call it PNA?” Emorra interjected.

  “—PNA, then, is harder to separate means that mutations in the PNA are less likely than in terrestrial DNA,” Tieran said. He looked at Wind Blossom and asked, “Is that why you think there haven’t been any illnesses? Because PNA is so much less prone to mutations than DNA?”

  “It is just as prone,” Wind Blossom corrected. “However, the rate is slower.”

  Tieran waved away the correction as meaningless.

  “There is a big difference,” Wind Blossom persisted. “It means that over time, PNA will have mutations.”

  “It still means that in the same period of time there will be more mutations in DNA than in PNA,” Emorra said, coming to Tieran’s defense.

  “That’s not all,” Tieran said. “The very resistance to change means that PNA is less able to deal with unwanted mutations.”

  “Oh, I think PNA deals with mutations quite admirably,” Wind Blossom said dryly.

  Emorra looked to Tieran for enlightenment.

  He shrugged. “She means that most mutations will be fatal immediately.”

  “And PNA is the same for everything Pernese?” Emorra asked. At Tieran’s nod, she mused, “So whatever is affecting the fire-lizards and dragons in the future could be as simple as a symbiont that’s mutated into a parasite?”

  “It could be,” Wind Blossom agreed.

  “But how does that alter our problem?” Emorra asked. “Regardless of the origin, we have to teach our descendants how to effect a cure.”

  “And you will undertake to teach our distant descendants how to use the mapper?” Wind Blossom asked.

  “Of course,” Emorra said. “But I’ll need Tieran.”

  “I shall need Tieran,” Wind Blossom countered.

  “We’ll share,” Emorra said as a compromise.

  “Agreed,” Wind Blossom said, with a faint triumphant light in her dark eyes.

  Tieran looked from mother to daughter and back again and, wisely, kept his silence.

  Tieran and Emorra stood on either side of a blackboard with identical expressions. They had managed to fill the blackboard twice with just the highlights of the materials they had to cover.

  “If this were a lecture, how long do you think it would take?” Emorra asked Tieran.

  The young man frowned thoughtfully before shaking his head. “I don’t know. Perhaps more important is how long they can afford to sit still just learning.”

  “What, are you afraid that they’ll race ahead and start using the materials before they properly know how?”

  “Wouldn’t you, in their situation?” Tieran asked.

  “We’ll have to come up with a way to slow them down, then,” Emorra said. “Some sort of test, a hurdle they have to pass before they can move on.”

  Tieran pursed his lips thoughtfully. Before he could reply, the door to the classroom burst open. It was Carelly.

  “Come quickly, Wind Blossom needs you!”

  The two exchanged alarmed looks and raced out the door to follow.

  Upstairs, they found Wind Blossom lying in bed. Never before had they seen her looking so pale, so feeble.

  “What is it, Mother?” Emorra asked, grabbing a chair and looking down worriedly.
/>   “We have failed,” Wind Blossom said. “The gene mappers cannot store all the data.”

  “What?” Tieran barked in surprise.

  “There is too much data,” Wind Blossom repeated. “With all the information on the various immune codings, there is at least three times more data than the mapper can store.”

  “So we eliminate some,” Emorra suggested, matter-of-factly.

  “What if we eliminate the wrong data?” Tieran asked her, shaking his head.

  “So, we don’t,” Emorra replied.

  “And how can we do that?” Tieran demanded. “Are they just supposed to tell us what they need?”

  Emorra’s eyes widened as she absorbed Tieran’s words.

  “Yes,” she said. “And that will be the key to opening the second door in the classrooms.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Harper, teach.

  Miner, mine.

  Smith, forge.

  Healer, cure.

  Dragonrider, protect them all.

  Benden Weyr, Third Pass, 26th Day, AL 508

  Kindan smiled at Lorana as she paused at the bottom of the stairs leading to the Oldtimer Rooms.

  “It’s all right,” he told her. “I’ve been in them.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “And I touched nothing.”

  “We should get Ketan,” she said.

  “Right behind you!” Ketan called out, clattering down the stairs to join them. He and the weyrlings—now grown dragons and riders—had returned the day before, exhausted. Of the lot, the weyrfolk without dragons had fared best, Ketan included. “I saw you headed this way.”

  Reassured, Lorana moved in front of Kindan and was the first in the room. The sound of a disembodied voice stopped her in her tracks.

  “Welcome,” it said. “I am Wind Blossom. If you have come to these rooms for an emergency involving the dragons, then please step inside. If not, please leave immediately.”

  Eyes glowing, Lorana turned back to the other two, who stood poised in the doorway.

  “She said her name was Wind Blossom,” Lorana called, gesturing excitedly for the others to enter.

 

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