[Log] Firestone Drills
Who: E'sere, L'dor
When: Day 18, Month 1, Turn 376
Where: Bowl, Benden Weyr
What: E'sere and L'dor discuss various things after drills.
Northern Bowl Winter. Partly Cloudy. 33F / 1C.
The ground is flat, featureless rock with loose gravel speckling the gray surface. Just under a mile long - from from lake in the south and the hatching caverns in the north - and a half of a mile wide at the widest, most of the bowl is largely featureless: An open space ideal for dragons. Angled so that it faces almost perfectly north, it narrows to the north to be closer to a quarter-mile wide at the hatching cavern.
The entrance to the hatching grounds, wide and tall enough for a dragon to fly through, is on the northern wall. The living caverns tunnel branches off along the western wall. All along the rock walls of the bowl are ledges and weyrs.
-- Players --
E'sere.........Very handsome and well-dressed man in mid- to late twenties. Lean, rangy build; short dark hair; strong features, including a hawkish nose.
L'dor..........25, dark hair, blue eyes, tan. Looks fit; rather gangly.
-- Exits --
Hatching Grounds.........[N] Council Room.............[E]
Southern Bowl............[S] Living Cavern............[W]
It's mid-afternoon, and already the light is starting to fade on this midwinter day. E'sere's wing has landed in the Bowl after drill, and the riders have mostly dismounted. Some are attending to their dragons, others just waiting for a word of comment or dismissal from the wingleader. L'dor is standing at Banyth's side, running a hand under the dragon's straps in the usual post-flight check. He seems to be attending to one spot in the leather in particular.
Dismissing the wing with his usual 'well done,' E'sere sets about his other habit of catching a couple of riders aside to add quieter corrections, advice and such, rather than embarrass them in front of everyone. That doesn't take long, though, before even they're being sent on their way, and E'sere can glance around and find L'dor, stepping over toward his wingsecond to offer, "Banyth looked very good today."
L'dor turns, smiling, with his hand still on the strap. "Thanks. He likes manoeuvres like those turns: he knows he's good at them. One advantage of being relatively small, I suppose. Looks like I've got stitching job this evening, though. How about the wing as a whole? Are you pleased with how it went?"
"Well, nothing like a little pride," agrees E'sere, with a grin. "Morelenth is still adjusting to being smaller than most bronzes now, too--although I don't think he has quite the same gap on them as Banyth, at least." At mention of the wing, he glances around, brushing a hand through his hair absently. "They're doing well, coming along nicely. I am pleased, yes."
L'dor chuckles, and gives the blue a friendly slap on the flank. "Poor Banyth. He's smaller than a lot of the greens, nowadays - he really hates that. Even though he doesn't remember how it was before, it seems wrong to him." Giving the dragon's side a final rub, he lowers his hand and turns to face the wingleader more directly. "How do we compare with your wing at High Reaches?"
"Morelenth knows, too, in that same sort of way," E'sere notes. "He remembers how he used to fly and compare to them, and that those tactics don't work as well now. Though he's always been so... lithe--" which is a nice way to describe the skeletal bronze "--that he's relatively agile, anyway." His shoulders lift, and he slides his hands into the pockets of his coat. "More diligent," he remarks dryly. "We didn't drill often but there were always complaints, people wanting to know why bother with Thread never returning."
"Mmm. They didn't know, of course." L'dor gives a wry grin and corrects himself hastily. "Don't know, I mean. It's sometimes hard to remember that the world that's out there isn't our world - or even my world. It's seventy turns in the future, but for us Thread will be with us almost as soon as we get home. It could be as little as two or three months, if the Red Star lines up next time round."
E'sere concedes, "Didn't, don't--it doesn't really make a difference, I suppose, to you. They won't ever know, at any rate." He frowns slightly at that thought, lips pursing. "But somehow you'll still manage to make good progress, judging by my wing and what I've seen the Wingleader S'dric's, too. I'll hope you have a little more reprieve than two or three months, though, to readjust. It can't be easy for you."
L'dor dismisses the concern with pursed lips and a sideways tilt of the head. "We'll be all right. We'd been drilling pretty intensively before we came, and some of us - you realise several of us are from Connell: B'net got most of us in his wing - had been at it for several turns before we came to Benden. We've got the skills, mostly - though it'd be good if we had more chance to practise with firestone." He frowns, considering. "It's more the wings working together - I'm hoping we don't get too much reorganisation when we go back. Though," he concedes with a thoughtful nod, "we'll need it here, before then, of course, once the weyrlings are ready to join wings."
E'sere nods once, smile returning when L'dor reassures him. "Of course. You're ready for it, I imagine, and ready to be done with this waiting. But all the same, however much drilling you do, I suspect it will compare nothing to the real experience. But that won't change whether it's another two months or two turns from when you get back, so really, all the same I suppose, when you look at it like that."
L'dor rolls his eyes. "Too true. And it's only then that we'll find out what we don't know, too. But the longer it takes to arrive, the more dragons we can raise, and that's vital, so I'm not impatient. Far from it. Besides, we've got fifty turns of it to look forward to." After a fractional hesitation, he goes on, "Most of us won't see an Interval again."
Wryly, E'sere tilts his head toward L'dor, acknowledgement of his words. "Too true," he echoes. The hesitation before the bluerider's last words make his smile sad, wistful even. "No, you won't," he agrees. "The people who've earned their rest the most again are not likely to be the ones who get to enjoy it, unfortunately."
L'dor shrugs. "In a Pass, there must be people who live their whole lives with Thread, without ever knowing what it's like to be able to be outside without being cautious. I've had twenty-five turns without it, and a whole wonderful continent to run around in. Can't complain at that, even if ten of them have been spent getting ready for Thread. And that's the point, anyway - that's what dragons are for. The stuff the Northern Weyrs were getting up to in my day - transport, and displays, and so on - it just seemed like make-work once I knew Thread wasn't gone for good." Awkwardly, he raises his hands, palm-outwards. "Not wishing to insult your home Weyr, or anything."
"Mak-work," repeats E'sere. "Of course. It is, no insult there. But at the same time, necessary for our survival, even if it amounts to little more than prostituting our services to the Holds who should have been proud to support us. Even knowing Thread would return, what obligation would the Holders have to us when it wasn't? I could hardly expect them to support me, when I did nothing at all to earn that support."
"It's fair enough that a Weyr should extend its services in an interval," L'dor concedes. "But not to the extent of failing to prepare for Thread, failing to preserve the skills. The Weyrs - but what does it matter? That's over a hundred turns ago even from now." He frowns abruptly, as if some idea has taken him by surprise. "What do you think about firestone drills? We've so little stone with us that we can't do more than we're doing, really - should we be trying to do something about that, do you think?"
"Drills were at best nostalgia affairs for us," notes E'sere. "Do them every once in a while for history's sake more than anything else. But what would you have us do, when we don't know any differently, that Thread will return /some/day and we should remain prepared?" A shrug ensues, and then he shakes his head at the latter question. "No, we really can't afford to waste what we have," he confesses. "So unless you find a vein of firestone in the South we can mine..."
"Manpower's the problem there," L'dor answers. "It was at Connell, too. I think we knew where to find it - I could check my maps, see if I had a site noted...." He tails off thoughtfully, mind obviously at work on the problem, before explaining with a shrug, "But I might not have. We never had enough people to actually mine the stuff in the quantities we'd need. Once the Hold got going, I believe they were helping us with that, but we were expecting to get it from the Minecraft once Thread appeared." Grinning, he adds, "At which point, they might be more willing to deal with us, we were assuming."
"Perhaps, but it wouldn't be high on my priorities list," admits the bronzerider. E'sere explains, "You'll have time when you get back to your own time to flame more, and I'm not sure we can spare much more manpower here to get the amounts of firestone it would take. Mining is a very intensive process, as I understand it. Dangerous, too, in some cases."
L'dor nods his agreement. "Yes, especially if you have to tunnel. And you're right: we're never going to get enough to drill very regularly, with the people we've got. But maybe if we found an open source... I'm thinking of the weyrlings, as much as us. They'll /need/ to flame, if they're to learn. And if we're here for several more turns, we'll lose the skill." He's looking concerned, now.
"Perhaps it's something we should worry about when it's closer to time for you to return to your own time," E'sere suggests mildly. "And when we're less strapped for keeping ourselves fed and clothed, and our candidates healthy for the next clutch we can hatch."
"That's not going to get any easier - the more dragons we hatch, the more we're going to be stretched for people," L'dor counters gloomily. "But it's certainly something we can survive without. Oil, now...." He shrugs. "Should have enough of that for a while, at least, with the berries we brought over this morning. It's strange having to find everything for ourselves, again: even Benden of our time isn't as self-sufficient as we are here, even though the holds aren't giving much support. Sounds as if it's the same in this time: do you have much to do with the holders, when you're home?"
E'sere shrugs, but doesn't seem, unlike L'dor, unduly worried. "A fair amount," he admits, shoulders lifting. "We transport them and goods, mostly. Odd jobs. I know most of them because of my family, my position; it lets me slip into their galas and such on occasion, and get to know them more personally, even if I'm not, precisely, on the same level."
L'dor nods. "Oh, you said your cousin was Weyrleader, didn't you? I guess that gives you a bit of standing - holders go for that sort of thing. Blood, and family. My people were cotholders: never had any sort of rank. We'd have thought any dragonrider above us, of course." He laughs, "Or, they did until they found I'd impressed at Connell. Funny, it didn't seem to apply to me."
"Yes, that relation among others," agrees E'sere. "Though mostly I suppose you could say I rode my mother's coattails, more than his--she was Weyrwoman, and blood of Tillek. I hate to use those ties for leverage, but really, High Reaches had little enough else to support ourselves with, and if that were the key to getting into the Holders' graces..."
L'dor raises his eyebrows and nods, considering. "Useful connections, to be made the most of. It's a shame we don't have a relative of the Benden blood to do the same thing, and use a bit of influence. The Holds were shorting us on tithes and expanding their holdings beyond what we can protect, when we left. Hopefully they'll see the need to toe the line before Thread falls."
"Unfortunate," agrees E'sere, laughing. "Still, I expect your Weyrleaders will find some way to cope, find their own influence. It will work out, one way or another. But if you'll excuse me, Morelenth is anxious for a bath. I'll see you later, L'dor."