Monthly Archives: July 2019

Deconstruction Roundup for July 26th, 2019

(by the Slacktiverse and others; collected by Silver Adept, who continues to wonder how random random selection really is.)

The point of these posts is threefold:

  1. To let people stay up to date on ongoing deconstructions. (All ones on our list, including finished and stalled ones, here.)
  2. To let people who can’t comment elsewhere have a place to comment.
  3. To let people comment in a place where people who can’t read Disqus can see what they have to say.

Ana Mardoll: Ana Mardoll’s Ramblings

Elizabeth Sandifer: Eruditorium Press

Fred Clark: Slacktivist

Ross: A Mind Occasionally Voyaging

RubyTea: Heathen Critique

Silver Adept: Here on The Slacktiverse

Let us know, please, if there are errors in the post. Or if you don’t want to be included. Or if there’s someone who you think should be included, which includes you. We can use more content. Or if you understand how dangerous it appears to be to say anything nice about yourself in the presence of other people. Or for any other reason, really.

Dragonsblood: Battle Plan, Meet The Enemy

Last time, a lot of speculation about the illness that’s attacking fire-lizards and dragons, and an indication that Kindan might have done better as a Healer, and Lorana as a Harper. Additionally, an asshole was an asshole.

Dragonsblood, Chapters 11 and 12: Content Notes: The A+ Parenting of Kitti Ping

We’re still in Chapter 11, and the alarm has rung out that Thread will be falling, and we pick up on the scheduled day of Threadfall over Bitra. Since this is the first live-fire exercise against actual Thread, everone at Benden Weyr is a bit more keyed-up than they might otherwise be.

Tullea and B’nik are late to the muster. Tullea says they were just getting to bed, which doesn’t garner sympathy from anyone, but makes me really start wondering whether Tullea and B’nik are involved in a time-travel plot of their own, and Tullea’s mood and issues come from being double-timed or otherwise existing in two temporal realities at once. It’s been described as something that makes people very irritable, possibly in the same way as when someone expects a dragon to rise to mate.

The sick dragons are flying in the Threadfall, apparently, because the illness didn’t have the courtesy to only affect full wings at a time.

For over twenty turns, M’tal had led Benden Weyr. In all that time, he had had just one thought: to prepare for Thread. This day–now–was the culmination of all he had worked towared.
It was a disaster.
Three dragons failed to come out of between. Their loss cast an immediate pall on the fight.

Did anyone think to tell M’tal about their speculation that sick dragons get disoriented and are way less likely to come out of hyperspace alive? Because if you knew nine days in advance where Thread was scheduled to fall, that’s enough time for dragons to try and get there the long way. Assuming they’re healthy enough to try.

Worse, it threw off the organization of the wings. The teamwork that M’tal had drilled his riders so assiduously in maintaining fell apart before the first of the Thread arrived. Ruefully, M’tal reflected that he had not considered training his dragons in sustaining losses.

I…don’t get what kind of training was going on, that the absence of a person in the wing causes such disarray. There aren’t any utility riders, or reservists whose job it is to fill a hole should one appear? There aren’t backup wings who train but don’t actually fly unless they’re summoned to the battlefield to fill gaps? Riders don’t know how to reform themselves and be effective if they’re one short, or two short, or one extra? I realize that training doesn’t account for every situation, but the possibility of being one or two down in your wing, or having to account for an extra from another wing seems like something that should have been at the forefront of M’tal’s mind, since he is going to be leading people to their potential death or injury. You hope to have no casualties, but you train in such a way that even if everyone around you has to leave, temporarily or permanently, you can continue to be effective by yourself or with others that you may not have personally trained with.

And then everything unraveled. The first cry of a Thread-scored dragon seared M’tal’s ears like a hot poker, thankfully cut off as the dragon went between where the freezing cold would destroy Thread.
Then another dragon went between, and another–and that one did not return.
M’tal issued sharp orders to his wingleaders to regroup, but try as they might, the increasing casualties meant that they never quite recovered from the initial disorder.
The battle against Thread turned more dangerous, desperate. Worse, Gaminth informed him that many of the dragons going between and not returning to the Fall had not returned to the Weyr, either.
The pain of that additional loss weighed heavily on the remaining riders. Those riding ill dragons responded by doing their best to avoid going between–often with worse results. Four, then five dragons were Threaded at once and went between so terribly Thread scored that M’tal knew nothing could be done to save them.
And then it was over.

It’s not quite a rout, in the sense that the Thread doesn’t drive the dragonriders away, but it’s certainly not the resounding victory that M’tal had in mind, and I still want to blame the training methods of the dragonriders for this. Because in my significantly lower-stakes collegiate marching band, for each rank of twelve marchers in a halftime show, there was one person whose job it was to know that line well enough to step in in case someone got injured or sick and couldn’t go on. And other reserves off the field practicing, who could go in at any time, and who did the uptempo pregame routine themselves in various roles of where they might be, in the hope they might make it to the show themselves. Yet, despite the fact that it’s almost guaranteed there will be injury and dragonriders that might have to withdraw from either the formation or the battle at any time, M’tal hasn’t trained anybody on what to do if you find yourself a dragon down? That seems…like another piece of knowledge somehow got lost in the Interval that really shouldn’t have. I would expect the dragonriders to keep meticulous records about what happened, who was injured, who was killed, and all of those things. So it should have been immediately apparent to anyone that chose to look, and that has had twenty years to look, that injuries are going to happen and that the dragonriders need to be able to adapt to a changing situation at any time. Instead, it seems like once there’s one tiny disruption to the plan, everything goes out the window. The dragonriders have supposedly been drilling and playing the All-Weyr Games as well, but of course, the only thing we saw from that is distance flying and precision-shooting. If it was supposed to be drills for the real Threadfall, the competitions should not have been just individual riders and five-person wings, but groups of two, three, four, and six as well.

Still alive to fight another day, M’tal heads home, where there’s a lot of bustle about getting ready for the inevitable injuries that will bring dragons back to the Weyr. Which is to say, somehow the Headwomen and those in the Weyr know there will be casualties, and yet M’tal never trained his fighters for this eventuality.

Cocowhat by depizan

That’s sloppy writing at best.

Lorana, during all of this, is trying to make sure that Arith stays asleep, but Arith has to pull Lorana back from trying to grab a dragon that’s going to hyperspace to die, even though Lorana feels like she might have been able to pull them back and keep them there. Salina’s arrival keeps Lorana occupied in trying to keep Salina occupied, but the arrival of the wounded completely subsumes Lorana’s attention, and replays several incidences of the horror of watching a dragon go to hyperspace to die for Salina, which can’t be good for her mental health. There’s another bit of scientific knowledge that’s survived, about blood contaminations, after K’tan stops Lorana and orders her to wash her hands after she gets rider blood on them:

K’tan shook his head and gave her a pat. “Dragon ichor isn’t the same. You can mix it any time,” he assured her. “It’s just human blood that can cause problems. People have different blood, and mixing it can cause fevers.”

Despite not having the technology to type the blood, and not really knowing about what sorts of diseases can spread through blood to blood contact, they know that mixing blood is a problem. I suppose that makes sense.

When Lorana nearly faints from hunger, Kindan is there to direct her firmly to the kitchens to get food, since she’s apparently been working a ten hour shift of stitching up dragons and humans. So has Kindan, so he also sensibly takes a break. The kitchen staff do their best to stuff Lorana full of food with cheeriness.

When Tullea and B’nik arrive for food themselves, they don’t get immediately served, as Lorana’s server says sotto voce that she’s helping those who help the Weyr, with clear implication that Tullea has not been. M’tal descends immediately on them as soon as he arrives in the Cavern. (There’s a small bit earlier that I haven’t quoted where Lorana realizes that Tullea should be out helping the wounded dragons as well, and she’s not here.)

“What are the casualty figures?” he asked as he closed the distance.
“What?”
M’tal rephrased his question. “How many riders and dragons are too injured to fly in the next Fall, and how long will it take them to recover?”
“I don’t know,” Tullea snapped. She thrust a hand toward Lorana. “Ask her.”
W’ren, M’tal’s wing-second, entered the Cavern and placed himself by his Weyrleader.
“I am asking you,” M’tal said. “With the loss of Breth, you have become the Weyrwoman of Benden. It’s your duty to keep track of the injured.”
Tullea recoiled from M’tal’s words and then, as the full import of them dawned on her, her eyes gleamed and she gave him a wicked smile. “That’s right, I am, aren’t I?” she said with unconcealed glee. She gave B’nik a knowing glance and returned her gaze to the Weyrleader. “And when Minith rises, who knows who’ll be Weyrleader then? Mind your manners, M’tal, you wouldn’t want to upset your queen, would you?” Tullea purred.
M’tal gave her a hard, penetrating look. “Your duty is to the Weyr, Weyrwoman.”
“I’ll do my duty,” Tullea snapped, “when my queen mates. As for now, ask her.” She cocked her head toward Lorana.
“Tullea,” B’nik said pleadingly.
Tullea looked down at him and merely shook her head. “And there’ll be changes in the Caverns, too,” she said in a louder voice before she sat back down.

Tullea is set up in contrast to Salina, who gets a fire back in her eyes as the habit of being the Weyrwoman takes over when everyone sits down to eat. Salina makes very certain that M’tal is eating, then K’tan, then W’ren, and finally, herself as well as she has Lorana run off the casualty and fatality list that K’tan delivered to M’tal right after this spat with Tullea. First for Benden, which will be down about seventy dragons due to death and injury, with thirty more that will need a week to recover, and so will be sitting out the next Fall, and then Lorana mentions that she felt each of the dragons that died, regardless of whether they were Benden’s or not, and she thinks there may have been around a hundred fatalities across the planet for this Fall.

I am again looking for a more complex reason as to why Tullea is being portrayed this way. We know that dragons choose their riders, and gold dragons are looking for strong-willed people with excellent telepathic abilities. Presumably, the Weyrleaders and bronze riders are looking for someone with leadership capability (and someone who will accept their leadership or want to lead with them). The trickiest part is that if a candidate turns out to be Tullea or Kylara or Lessa, you end up with someone who the bronze riders have to negotiate with, or someone that needs a specific bronze rider they can either control or who is willing to put up with them. Because the dudes don’t like acknowledging that the queen dragon rules the roost, and so, theoretically, her rider does, too.

And yet, because Pern runs on The Patriarchy (thbbbpth), any time a strong-willed woman shows up, the narrative makes quite sure to portray her in a terrible light. With Kylara, it was that she enjoyed sex too much, and had sex with people who weren’t other dragonriders, and thought that her position as senior meant she didn’t have to do any of the work. With Tullea, she’s seemingly not interested in sex at all, unless with B’nik(?), but she’s portrayed as far too enamored of the power she can wield and the prestige she gets from the position to contribute to the running of the Weyr. Lessa, before she decides to work within the system, is regularly beaten for being a woman with opinions and a desire to see them implemented.

We didn’t see Tullea or Kylara (or Jora, if we’re going to go back some distance) Impress, so the only characterization we get from them is their behavior around the dragonriders. Even though Lorana could, albeit accidentally, ask what’s going on with Tullea. And then apologize profusely for it afterward, but it would give her information she desperately needs, and it would humanize Tullea enough for us to form an opinion about her, rather than the suspicious reaction I have because the narrative does not do well by their women characters.

However, before we get back to this puzzle, the narrative shifts over to D’gan

who is absolutely livid about his own losses, which were much more severe than Benden’s. He blames it mostly on the winds making the Thread fall unpredictably. But if he’s drilling his the same way that M’tal drilled his own, then they had the same inability to react to the changing circumstances.

And speaking of getting backstory, we get the reasons why it bruises D’gan’s ego so greatly to have had such a disaster. Because all of the other Weyrs apparently begged off on supplying Igen with a new queen egg, and D’gan made it his mission to Show Them All by becoming Weyrleader of Telgar and then the very best Weyrleader there ever was.

Thankfully, we don’t stay with D’gan, and instead kick over to C’rion, who is dealing with losses, a big clump of sick dragons, and a lot of people who are losing theirs (which causes a bit of having to remember to not contract the name anymore, as the honorific disappears when the dragon dies. Which is pretty shit behavior, I might note, to change someone’s name as a reminder of what they lost.) and who aren’t able to necessarily cope with the loss of their own dragon or comfort others who are doing so. On that downer note, the chapter ends.

“For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” This is as true in ecosystems as it is in phsyics. Any new species will incite a reaction from the ecosystem.

–Fundamental Principles of Ecosystem Design, 11th Edition

Chapter 12 opens with the end of the First Pass. M’hall feels that he’s made it to the end, and while they still set sentries to be sure there aren’t more, the dragonriders (and others) apparently set themselves to the business of having a good drink and party at having survived all the way through to the end. With the first toast to absent friends, of course.

Then we spend a moment of Emorra, who realizes that she’s particularly drunk, wondering where Tieran is, since he wasn’t at the Drum Tower, and then, upon hearing his and Wind Blossom’s voices in the same room, bursts in on the suspicion that they might be knocking boots. That’s not happening – instead, they’re still trying to work out whether the infection in the fire-lizard can cross over ot the dragons. Emorra doesn’t hvae much to contribute to the conversation, being blitzed, but it does allow the narrative to then jump forward to a sober Emorra having a conversation with Tieran, Janir, and Wind Blossom as they each stake out their positions about whether or not the infection is bacterial, or whether the bacterial infection the antibiotics killed was opportunistic, and the fire-lizard managed to fight off the real infection thanks to the antibiotic killing everything else that was trying to get in while the walls were down.

The drunken Emorra scene could probably have been cut, since all it serves purpose is to make Emorra look bad and accuse her mother of favoring Tieran, less elegantly than she would have liked to. I don’t understand the purpose of the scene.

It’s also taken the larger group this long to actually pay attention to the details of the harness, apparently, so be they know to call Grenn by name.

Emorra was studying the beadwork carefully.
“This symbol here–do you see it?” she asked, holding the harness up to the others. “What do you make of it?”
“There’s the caduceus of Aesculapius,” Janir said. “The standard symbol for medicine–”
“Or a doctor,” Emorra interjected. She peered more closely at the beadwork. “But what’s beneath it?”
“It looks like some sort of animal,” Tieran suggested tentatively.
“But it’s hard to tell,” Janir complained.
Emorra looked at them all. “I just received a message from Igen, detailing a plan to begin a beadworks,” she told them. “To my knowledge, there were no beads brought over from Landing, but any that landed with the original settlers.”
She fingered the small beads sewn into the firelizard’s harness.
“These beads should not exist.”

There’s your proof, then, that Grenn’s from the future and they are now involved in a time travel plot. Although in the next scene, Emorra seems to be arguing with Wind Blossom that the fire lizard is still from their time, which doesn’t make sense at all. This is the sort of thing that an editor would hopefully catch and ask for clarification or a reworking of the scene. And since what it really does is give time for M’hall to arrive so they can talk about how it’s pretty close to definite that this fire lizard is from the future, the scene itself could be excised without worries. Especially since M’hall and Wind Blossom point out by everyone knows the time travel trick of dragons and that “oh, some beads must have been missed in the trip” is a plausible explanation to those who don’t know or want to accept time travel, and for those who don’t believe in Joel Lilienkamp’s meticulous records.

M’hall and Wind Blossom discuss the worst case scenario of the illness being communicable between all three fire-lizard family species. Wind Blossom says she hopes the watch-whers will be immune, because they’re a deviation from the original fire-lizard genome (“Dragons ‘writ’ differently,” she says, in response to M’hall saying dragons are fire-lizards writ large.)

Wind Blossom says she doesn’t know enough about the problem to do much about it, and M’hall correctly surmises that getting more information would require more subjects, which might mean bigger subjects.

“Is that why you ordered all that agenothree?”
“Do you mean nitric acid, HNO3?” Wind Blossom asked primly.
The redheaded dragpnrider blushed. “Yes, I do,” he said, looking chagrined. “When you’re flying Threadfall, you tend to slur words, so it becomes agenothree.”
“Mmm,” Wind Blossom murmured noncommittallly.
“You’re teasing me!” M’hall exclaimed suddenly with a startled laugh. “I don’t believe it! You’re actually teasing me.”
Wind Blossom lowered her eyes shamefully for a moment and then raised them again to meet his. “It is very rude of me, I know,” she said sheepishly.
“I never even knew you had a sense of humor.”
“My mother would berate me for it,” Wind Blossom agreed. “However, it has kept me company in trying times. I had hoped to keep it under control but apparently it got away from me again.”
“Oh, you enjoyed that all right,” M’hall said, wagging a finger at her. “Don’t deny it, you enjoyed it.”
Wind Blossom nodded. “I do not deny it.”

Cocowhat by depizan

Not for Wind Blossom having a sense of humor, which is entirely healthy, but that the A+ parenting of Kitti Ping demanded that Wind Blossom suppress her sense of humor. This is probably another artifact of parenting in other cultures I don’t understand, but it seems entirely monstrous to me that a child and woman should be expected never to show humor. Everything would be far less cheerful and colorful and worthwhile without the ability to crack a joke and get / give a few smiles. About the only reason I could see someone wanting to squelch a sense of humor is if it was cruel “humor”, rather than genuine laughs. We can’t tell what Wind Blossom’s actual sense of humor is, based on this small excerpt, but that we don’t know what her sense of humor is (other than “perceived nonexistent”) is a problem. It suggests even more how much Wind Blossom was messed up by her mother.

M’hall and Wind Blossom then talk about Wind Blossom’s short-term memory issues and how the Eridani system of specific bloodlines shepherding ecosystems is a disaster for this planet, given the inevitability of the native ecosystem of Pern providing pushback and the complete lack of knowledge that matter generations will have to effectively manage their ecosystem, barring some basic genetic knowledge. Wind Blossom pins her hopes that some “thousand years or more”, the people of Pern will “re-establish contact with the Yokohama or the other ships in orbit,” and get all that knowledge back.

Of course, we know they will, and they’ll use that knowledge to get rid of Thread as a problem. What happens after that, nobody really wants to write, except perhaps in fanfic, because writing a society that is grappling with the discovery of highly advanced technology left by their ancestors nearly twenty-five hundred years ago isn’t interesting without the dragons and the otherworldly menace.

The chapter ends with M’hall offering what help he can give, and also suggesting that Wind Blossom take a vacation. Which, after thought, Wind Blossom decides to take him up on.

Deconstruction Roundup for July 19th, 2019

(by the Slacktiverse and others; collected by Silver Adept, who continues to wonder how random random selection really is.)

The point of these posts is threefold:

  1. To let people stay up to date on ongoing deconstructions. (All ones on our list, including finished and stalled ones, here.)
  2. To let people who can’t comment elsewhere have a place to comment.
  3. To let people comment in a place where people who can’t read Disqus can see what they have to say.

Elizabeth Sandifer: Eruditorium Press

Fred Clark: Slacktivist

Ross: A Mind Occasionally Voyaging

Silver Adept: Here on The Slacktiverse

Let us know, please, if there are errors in the post. Or if you don’t want to be included. Or if there’s someone who you think should be included, which includes you. We can use more content. Or if you understand how frustrating it can be to think about what you want when you’re context has been telling you for years you’re not allowed to want. Or for any other reason, really.

Dragonsblood: Still Puzzling Things Out

[Eerie coincidences continue, as Mari Ness wants to know how a society that is just rediscovering telecommunications has a supply of nitroglycerin tablets on hand to give the Masterharper, and where exactly all the medical professionals are on the planet.]

Last time, we found Lorana, and so did a queen hatchling. Now with a place cemented in the world, Lorana is being sought after for her expertise in animal husbandry and her skills in art to see whether or not it will be possible to figure out what’s going on with the fire lizards and the dragons.

Lorana also met Tuella, whose queen hasn’t yet risen to mate. Rather than treating it as a serious problem, though, the dragonriders seem convinced that it will sort itself out soon enough. Which comes back to bite them on the ass when the seniormost queen of Benden Weyr goes into hyperspace and doesn’t come back, based on the cough.

Dragonsblood, Chapters 10 and 11: Content Notes:

(First Pass, Year 50, AL 58)

All life functions are the product of the interaction between thermodynamics and chemistry.

–Introduction, Elementary Biological Systems, 18th Edition.

That would be a lot more helpful to someone who understood both of those things, but perhaps if this is your textbook, you already have a fairly solid understanding of those things.

The chapter starts with Wind Blossom awaking with the certainty that there is danger to dragons, before she convinces herself that it was just a dream. There’s then a rundown of what could have been done, with the technology and knowledge that the colonists had before Thread, that would have been extremely helpful in identifying what the green sputum is and how to best counteract is. As it is, the general purpose antibiotic has worked sufficiently that Gren has recovered. Which means the humans can look forward to the end of their decontamination protocol. This is after the dead fire lizard was dissolved in nitric acid, and just about every available surface the fire lizard or the people handling the fire lizard have come in contact with has been sterilized (with ammonia or boiling water) or will be burned (which includes the quarantine tent and the clothes of the people in the quarantine.)

It turns out Wind Blossom’s dream was Kassa’s dream and Emorra’s dream as well, but none of them put any significance to it. Instead, among all the talk of quarantine protocol and Wind Blossom slightly lamenting the lost technology, there is one interesting bit.

In their time together, Wind Blossom has come to respect the young woman and understand that Kassa had been willing to look beyond Tieran’s disfigurement to the young man beneath the surface.

Which is probably about as close as we’ll ever get to a ringing endorsement from Wind Blossom about anyone. Hopefully it also means that Kassa has realized how her previous attempt at cheering Tieran up went and that she might be able to do better the next time, if she is so interested.

The final decontamination procedure promises to be cold.

She had arranged with Janir to to get them a mild acid solution. When they were ready for the final decontamination, they would strip, remove all body hair, leave the tent, and scrub each other with the acid solution.
The acid would instantly turn the oils of their skin into soap and kill any germs on their bodies. It would be a very chilling process, and Emorra had argued against that treatment for her mother, but Wind Blossom has been adamant.
“So we’re all going to be standing out there naked as the day we were born?” Kassa squawked.

It doesn’t sound particularly pleasant, either, considering the “have to remove all body hair”, which I suspect includes intimate hair, and then getting scrubbed up with an acid solution. Also, the science seems quite wrong, as most soap-making that I can find involves the use of a strong base, such as lye, rather than a mild acid, to produce soap from oils. Kassa might also be a bit more worried about being naked around the person she’s interested and his mother and grandmother.

Now that we’re done talking about the indignities to be suffered, they seem to have finally figured out something useful about the infection.

“Threadfall’s over, the dragons don’t have to fight,” Emorra said. “If the infection is just in the lungs…”
“Are you suggesting the shock of between killed the queen fire-lizard?” Wind Blossom asked.
Emorra frowned. “If so, would going between kill infected dragons?”
“So the dragons would be unharmed as long as they could be prevented from going between?”
“If the infection itself isn’t deadly,” Emorra agreed. “And hopefully the dragons will build up an immunity.”

They then talk more about how anything that can infect a fire-lizard is likely to infect a dragon and/or a watch-wher. Wind Blossom thinks the infection is bacterial, because it responded to an antibiotic, but Tieran suggests the bacteria might have been opportunistic, and the actual infection something else, but doesn’t elaborate, and Wind Blossom considers the possibility as valid.

What I want to know, though, is if the potential solution is to keep dragons and fire-lizards from going into hyperspace, then what else is going on that the dragons and fire-lizards are deliberately ignoring their pair-bonded partner’s insistence that they not go into hyperspace? If the bond is as strong as it has been portrayed up to this point, then there should be significant incentive for dragons not to do something that will endanger their bond and is against the direct wishes of their bond partner. Is this some sort of draconic toxoplasmosis, perhaps?

At breakfast, Wind Blossom requests a significant amount of nitric acid be stockpiled for emergencies. Emorra has to translate it into HNO3, which insists the linguistic corruption is already well underway after only a couple generations. Which is really quick, in my opinion, for a useful lay-ish term like “nitric acid” to be replaced with its chemical formula. Even if they’ve had fifty years of the culture calling it by that name. And, as far as I know, this is the only chemical compound to be replaced in such a way. Wine, beer, and liquor still exist, instead of being called EtOH, for example. (Which is a pretty terrible name to have to trip off your tongue.) After some further thought, actually, it seems like “nitric acid” and “HNO3 / agenothree” are both terrible words to use to describe the chemical that is used primarily for the function of killing Thread burrows, and secondarily for fertilizing the ground. I would expect the non-scientifically trained person to call it “Thread-killer” or something that specifically makes reference to its use, as humans tend to call things by names that, at least obliquely, indicate what their function is. Maybe in the Farmercraft the word fertilizer survives and gets applied to the nitric acid as well. Anyway, the point is that the name agenothree doesn’t make sense and this is a really short amount of time for it to completely take over as the standard name for that particular chemical compound.

Gren’s bead harness is a source of additional confusion, as nobody in their time and world has done anything of the sort. But mostly, the rest of the chapter is everyone worrying about the possible devastation to the dragon population if the illness in question turns out to infect them as well as fire-lizards.

Here’s how Chapter 11 starts:

Bronze for golds,
Brown, blue, for greens
So do the dragons
Follow their queens

That sounds not right at all, given that we’ve already established that gold dragon queens command everybody, not just the bronzes. Green dragons don’t command blues or browns, and I suspect the entire dragonrider society would laugh at such a prospect. What we’re seeing here, instead, is the enforced sexual stratification of dragonriders. We know full well that bronzes will chase greens sexually, but only bronzes get to chase gold dragons. And while there’s a shitload of determinism in dragon color choices based on the extratextual material and Kitti Ping’s statements in Dragonsdawn, it can’t be a source of contentment among the not-bronze dragonriders that they’re never going to be part of the leadership past a certain point. At least in most militaries in our time, a person can go to officer training school and continue to rise in the ranks, should they prove themselves competent and able to stay alive.

We’re back in the Second Interval, year 507 AL at Telgar Weyr, which means that D’gan

is involved in this chapter. And is yet again begging the question of why he hasn’t been disposed of as a Weyrleader yet. First, he does the reasonably cautious thing of banning fire-lizards from coming near the Weyr at all, in case they turn out to be disease vectors, but then he decides that there’s no reason to share information with anyone else, and his justification is pure toxic masculine ego getting in the way of rubbing two brain cells together.

“We should tell the other Weyrs–” L’rat began.
“We will tell them nothing!” D’gan roared. He turned away, facing east, away from the Weyr Bowl behind him, away from his Wingleaders, his face into the wind.
“But surely they will have the same problems,” D’nal said.
“Listen, all of you,” D’gan said angrily, whirling around, jabbing a finger at each of them. “Telgar Weyr will take care of itself,” he declared, pointing at D’nal. He turned to L’rat, saying, “I will not have that addled M’tal or that cretin C’rion making fun of us, telling us what to do.
“Remember how they chided us when we brought the two Weyrs together? How jealous they were when they hadn’t thought to absorb poor Igen when our last queen died? How envious they were once we started winning Games, Turn after Turn?
“We are the largest Weyr, the strongest Weyr, the best-trained Weyr,” he said, emphasising each point by slapping a clenched fist into the palm of his other hand. “We will be the best at fighting Thread,” he declared. He turned eastward toward Benden Weyr, then south toward Ista Weyr. “And then they will come asking us for advice.”
To the healer he said, “If you can figure out a way to defeat this illness, then we’ll have something to talk to the other Weyrs about.”

D’gan then orders the isolation of the sick dragons, on the same idea of isolating sick herds that Lorana expressed in an earlier chapter. K’rem is hesitant to do it, because moving sick dragons might kill them, and when he raises an objection about who will look after the sick ones, because his dragon isn’t sick, D’gan says some of the weyrfolk can look after them.

This is written well before the political disaster that was the United States 2016 presidential election, but there’s a certain similarity between the way that D’gan talks about his Weyr and the way that Donald Trump talks about the United States. Lots of bellicosity, braggadicio, machismo, and the insistence that they’re the best in everything and need no help from anyone. And the total ignorance of a serious problem staring them in the face that betrays their complete inability to lead such a large and important operation such as a Weyr. The authoritarian strongman streak is right there, easy for everyone to see, but D’gan has surrounded himself with people either too afraid to gainsay him or who believe in his leadership enough to follow him as loyal lackeys. This won’t be good for Telgar at all, because battle plans have a nasty way of becoming mostly useless when contact is made with the enemy.

Thankfully, the narrative switches over to M’tal at Benden, doing the same thing that D’gan is doing at Telgar – examining the Star Stones to see how soon Thread will arrive. This is grim news for M’tal, because the signifiers say that it won’t be long now at all before the Third Pass begins, and the dragons are still suffering sicknesses and fatalities that will leave the fighting wings lighter than they need to effectively fight Thread. (That’s all the Weyrs, as unlike Telgar, the remaining Weyrs are freely communicating with each other about their losses and their difficulties and trying to pool their resources together to see if someone can come up with a solution.)

Lorana has volunteered to be communications hub for everyone, since she can talk to any and all dragons, and it’s faster to relay through her than any other communication method on the planet. Kindan has reservations about that, because Lorana also feels dragons, including when they die, but Lorana soldiers on. Which puts her in contrast to Tullea.

“Shouldn’t Tullea be here?” he [Kindan] asked M’tal.
M’tal pursed his lips. “She decided that she needed her rest,” he said. It was obvious he was torn between disapproval and sympathy. Kindan could understand that–the toll on all of them had been great.
“What about the other bronze riders?”
“B’nik said he would trust my observation,” M’tal responded. “The others agreed.”
With the death of Breth, Tullea’s Minith was the senior queen at Benden Weyr. When she rose to mate, the leadership of the Weyr would pass to the rider of the bronze she chose. Everyone expected it would be B’nik, even though Tullea had already found the time to tease several of the other ridrs. M’tal had pointedly not risen to any of her taunts, preferring to spend all his spare time consoling Salina.
In fact, that was where Lorana was at the moment–with Salina.

If you’re getting Kylara-Brekke vibes about all of this, you’re not wrong. (And also, you might have been primed by Mari Ness’s rereading having gone through that territory recently.) If Pern were explicitly a series that was explicitly about cyclical things, and how things repeat each generation, but perhaps in slightly different forms, then this recycling of characters and their dynamics wouldn’t be quite so disappointing. There are definitely hints that this kind of “into every generation, a Slayer is born” story was a way that things could have developed. I’ve produced a lot of bytes about how aggravating it is that things supposedly learned in one generation keep getting forgotten remarkably easily when it comes to the next generations, and may of you in the comments have been annoyed right along with me. Had the series stuck more closely to the fantasy-type world that it had sketched out at the beginning, we might very well have landed in that kind of cyclic story, whether you believe in the monomyth or not, because it would be easier to let gaps appear where knowledge gets lost because disaster, plague, invasion, Thread, whatever, and it’s just a thing that happens. It’s part of the fantasy genre that what happens after the great age is always incomplete or more terrible and they’re trying to get back to what they knew of as a mythic age.

But the story wants to be science fiction, and one of the things that science fiction is usually known for is a sense of progress over time. Often in a terribly Western conception where everything is always moving toward a more techonological and scientific future. While there might be the occasional hitch, the arc always moves in a direction that qualifies as “progress” over time. And with Pern, that presents some serious problems, because the future was written and explored first, and now we’re coming back and trying to show the past that will lead to that future. A past that necessitates a gigantic loss of knowledge and technology over time, much of it the sort of thing that seems extremely valuable to preserve. And also, a past that seems to be showing that the future that came first isn’t innovating, discovering, or having anything new happen, but it’s a retread of things that have happened. The future books emulate the past’s books, which causes future Pern to emulate past Pern. Cyclical stories, treading water, and then suddenly the rediscovery of ancient, still-working technology, and the promised “moving forward” starts happening in leaps and bounds. It’s a Renaissance – a rebirth, like what happened on Terra during those time periods CE when older knowledge that had been preserved in different parts of the world were reintroduced, and then expanded upon once the world had returned to about the same technological and societal level. Pern finally gets to break their cycle once they find the AI. But that has the knock-on effect of making only the Ninth Pass science fiction-as-envisaged. Everything else can’t go too far ahead, or it breaks what’s already been established.

Never mind that in Terra’s history, there were plenty of time periods where one nation-state, empire, or political division was able to make leaps and bounds of scientific discovery, gain power, and then collapse, starting again from a new baseline of knowledge. Each of these Passes could be their own empire space.

I guess I expect Pern to function a bit like Foundation did, to bring an old white dude into the discussion. First Pass Pern can be the original Empire, doomed to destruction but seeding its knowledge in such a way as to shorten the amount of time needed to return to itself. Then each Pass and Interval after that can rediscover something, reinvent something, understand something better and then pass that knowledge on in such a way that their deescendants can use it. (Seldon selected a goal of capturing and preserving as much knoweldge as it could in an encyclopedia, which they could then conveniently use when it came time to rebuild.) This is what a Western audience expects, because it comports with the history they’ve been told about Terra, with Empire and the Dark Times, before being reborn again into successive iterations of Empire. And yet, Pern is mythic rather than progressive. And I think that decision has really come back to bite the authors in the ass so, so much.

And now, for some mood whiplash, the author does something extremely right for worldbuilding and the setting. Kindan lags behind after M’tal confirms that Thread is on the way, and the narrative has Kindan appreciate the construction of Benden Weyr, because he’s trained as a miner and therefore knows, in ways that dragonriders who don’t share that background, what kind of architectural marvel the Weyr actually is. Kindan observes the water stream, that services each of the levels of the Weyr, before the waste water stream ends up in a “huge septic dome way beneath a lush field far below and south of the Weyr itself.” Septic fields!

Kindan could always tell newer stonework from the original–while there was clear craftsmanship in every bit of rock carving done in the Weyr, the new work was never as smooth or as clean as the original. The stairs leading from the top level of the Weyr up to the Standing Stones were a case in point. Instead of a handrail of smooth-melted rock, a rope had been bolted at intervals into the wall. The stairs themselves were nearly perfect, but Kindan’s legs noted a subtle unevenness as he descended to the Weyr.

This is good characterization! Kindan has the eye and the skill from growing up in the mines to be able to appreciate the differences in the stonework and catch the details that others might miss. Through his architectural eyes, we can learn about details of the world and the Weyr that would be clunky if delivered by any other character. Other characters have been able to appreciate the work of the Ancients, but not in the same way. It helps build a better picture of what the place is like, which can be difficult sometimes if an author skimps on the description out of insecurity or a lack or not actually having visualized the spaces their characters live in in any sort of meaningful way.

As he comes back to the Weyr, Kindan proves again why he would have made a reasonably good Healer, if Kindan had stuck with his secondary career and hadn’t been promoted after the Plague years. I wonder what a Healer-trained Kindan would have been able to do, if this is what he can still do alone.

“You dragonfolk are a hearty lot,” Kindan said, “I wonder if it’s the thin air–”
He cut himself off, as his words sunk in. K’tan’s eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully.
“Are you thinking that if thin air is good for riders, thinner air might be better for dragons?” the healer asked.
“Or worse for whatever ails them,” Kindan suggested. He mulled over the idea over then shrugged it off. “Well, it’s a thought.”
“Worth keeping,” K’tan replied, finding a stylus and making a note on his slate.
“If thin air is good, what about between?” Kindan mused.
K’tan shook his head. “The illness seems to disorient the dragons–they would never come back from between.” Kindan frowned and gestured to the records. “You’ve seen nothing about dragon illnesses?”

That’s incredibly useful information, K’tan! It could even explain why the dragons go into hyperspace, despite there being extremely good reasons and anchors on the ground to stop them from doing so. A disoriented dragon might engage their hyperspace drive by themselves, thinking they had a perfectly good destination in mind or sent to them by their rider. Considering how difficult it is to get information out of those who have had their dragons disappear on them, as weird as it sounds, K’tan might want to ask dragonriders to relay to….someone, Lorana, maybe? what they or their dragon is thinking right before they take the last hyperspace hop. It doesn’t necessarily have to be anything all that concrete, but having some last accounts might make it so they can figure out commonalities and what causes dragons and fire-lizards to send themselves into hyperspace where they can’t get out.

K’tan mentions he’s only looked back fifty years. Kindan sympathizes with the disarray of records past that point that K’tan has to deal with, because the Harper Hall’s Archives were similarly disorganized (Resler, you utter incompetent) while he was there. Lorana suggests they go to the Harper Hall and raid the records there for clues, startling them both. She apparently heard their conversation, and it seems like she would make a good Archivist, if Verilan could give her some training.

“I thought Kindan’s idea about thin air might make some sense,” she said, sipping her klah. “Also, cold kills germs, too.”
“So if we could get our sick dragons to cold high places–”
“Without killing them,” Kindand interjected.
“–without killing them,” K’tan agreed, accepting Kindan’s amendment with a nod, “then perhaps…”
Lorana shrugged. “It depends on the infection.”
“We don’t know enough about this infection,” Kindan [K’tan?] swore. Kindan and Lorana sighed in dejected agreement.
“But what about the fire-lizares? Have they ever gotten sick?”
“Not according to these records,” K’tan said with a wave of his hand.
“Maybe we’re looking in the wrong Records,” Kindan suggested. “Maybe we should be looking in the Harper Hall–”
“Or Fort Weyr,” Lorana interjected. When the other two responded with questioning looks, she explained, “Isn’t Fort Weyr the oldest? Wouldn’t the oldest Records of dragons–and firelizards–be there?”
K’tan and Kindan exchanged looks.
“She’s right, you know,” Kindan said.
“Mmph,” K’tan agreed. “But the Weyrs are closed to anyone but their own now.”

The plot doesn’t pick up this research thread any further, which is too bad, because I’m enjoying seeing Lorana be a competent and knowledgeable person about things. Also, inter-library loan is totally a thing, and if Fort’s in the cooperative trying to figure out how to beat the infection, all it would take is Lorana passing a few messages along for the Weyr Harper and/or Healer at Fort to go digging in their archives for mentions of fire-lizard or dragon sickness. Another message might ask Verilan if he can spare some apprentices to go rooting through the Harper Hall archives. As far as I know, Harpers can work together on the same problem, so why aren’t they? Yes, Verilan is still in the process of standing the Archives back up and making needed improvements over Resler’s neglect, but since they’re looking through stuff already, Verilan could put a bug in his apprentices’ ears to look out for something if they should see it while copying and transferring the data.

Where the plot goes, instead, is M’tal sending out riders to be on the lookout for the telltale signs of frozen Thread, on the hope that they might be spared some extra time before having to fight the real thing. Lorana, Kindan, K’tan, and M’tal figure out a way to ask Nuella to have the watch-whers join the network of informants, by having the watch-whers report to Nuella, and Nuella to relay that information to Lorana (likely via a conveniently nearby dragon or tuning in to Arith). They also discuss the possibility that watch-whers might fight Thread, something that we know is true, but that Kindan dismisses out of hand because of watch-whers being nocturnal. As the plot goes, riders report back that there’s black dust, and that sets the schedule for the first Threadfall of the Third Pass.

Which is where I’m going to take a breather, because this chapter is long, I’ve been longwinded, and there’s still more to analyze from what comes up next.

Deconstruction Roundup for July 12th, 2019

(by the Slacktiverse and others; collected by Silver Adept, who probably overreacted, but is also pretty sure the other person lacked the good faith necessary to a productive dialogue.)

The point of these posts is threefold:

  1. To let people stay up to date on ongoing deconstructions. (All ones on our list, including finished and stalled ones, here.)
  2. To let people who can’t comment elsewhere have a place to comment.
  3. To let people comment in a place where people who can’t read Disqus can see what they have to say.

Elizabeth Sandifer: Eruditorium Press

Fred Clark: Slacktivist

RubyTea: Heathen Critique

Ross: A Mind Occasionally Voyaging

Silver Adept: Here on The Slacktiverse

Let us know, please, if there are errors in the post. Or if you don’t want to be included. Or if there’s someone who you think should be included, which includes you. We can use more content. Or if you are experiencing some of the “fun” aftereffects of traumatic experiences. Or for any other reason, really.

Dragonsblood: Intersecting Timelines

Last time, we went on a tour of parallels about the deaths of Emily Boll and Sorka Hanrahan, with the heavy implication that the story we have learned about how everything went wrong has actually been part of a bigger plan to help shepherd the colonists into their lower tech lives safely, despite the presence of things they have no immunity to, and will likely suffer greatly from. And the big fear is that the dragons or watch-whers will catch a mutated big of their own and die out, leaving everyone defenseless against Thread.

Dragonsblood: Chapter 9: Content Notes: Suicidal ideation, Sexism,

(Back to Bender Weyr, Second Interval, 507 AL)

Jump,
Catch air,
Bound into the sky.
A wink
Between; beyond the eye.

Of course, I would also like less nonsense in the poetry, too.

Chapter 9 starts with Lorana getting found by Tullea, one of the Weyrwomen of Benden, and B’nik, someone who has an interest in her (and/or his dragon has an interest in hers).

“She’ll rise to mate soon,” B’nik told her calmly not a sevenday before. His eyes were clouded with an unasked question. Tullea knew the question but perversely decided to keep the answer to herself. Oh, she was pretty sure which dragon Minith would mate with, but she felt a sneaky thrill at the notion of keeping B’nik on tenterhooks. Besides, she thought to herself, it’s really the dragon’s choice.

Which it is, in the sense that the dragon’s mind seems to be the dominant one in the gestalt, once the tasks of making sure that she doesn’t feast on the flesh of her prey and that she stays outside of hyperspace are handled. But it also seems like the humans sometimes have a choice in the matter, if they like an eligible rider? How much of politics comes into play when jockeying for the Weyrleader position, anyway?

Also, I’m not on board with the characterization of Tullea being “perverse” about keeping her suspicions from B’nik. There are so few things that a woman is allowed to keep to herself on Pern, so it makes perfect sense to me that she would hold on to a secret for as long as she could.

The real reason for Lorana to be found, though, is to reintroduce Kindan to the narrative, this time as a full-fledged Weyr Harper at Benden. (Publication-wise, though, this book came out before we had fully finished with Kindan at the Harper Hall.) Kindan is given care of Lorana in conjunction with K’tan, the Weyr Healer, and there’s a short segment about why Lorana isn’t particularly bothered by the information that she was nearly dead from starvation.

“The Plague.” She remembered how hard she and her father had fought to save her mother, brother, and sister. And how, after battling for a fortnight, they’d lost first her sister, Sanna, then her brother, Lennel, and finally her mother.
After the fever had taken her mother, she and her father had cried in each other’s arms. Neither she nor Sannel had wanted to live. And then she’d caught the plague herself and her nightmares intensified to fill her waking days. The only pleasant thing had been her father peering down at her as he gently wiped her forehead or held her up and spooned down broth. She had wanted to go, to join her mother and siblings, but she couldn’t–the thought of leaving him behind was too much. And the fever had passed, and she’d recovered.
She sensed a motion or a change in posture from Kindan and looked at him carefully. His face had many smile lines on it, but it was carefully schooled; she could see the pain he was hiding and she knew that this man had seen people–many people–die.

Or Kindan is specifically remembering Koriana dying, but whatever. It hurts, and Lorana can see through the façade.

Lorana’s memories all come back in a rush, and she asks to make sure that Colfet is looked for, and is told there’s been no sign of her fire-lizards. In the next scene, at night, Valla (Kindan’s fire lizard) starts sneezing, so Lorana rouses Kindan by herself and finds K’tan’s dragon and asks him to send K’tan over. During the diagnosis, where everyone agrees they’ve never seen this before (except Lorana, who mentions Talith’s cough), Lorana mentions a herdbeast medicine. Kindan provides the paper and stylus, Lorana writes, K’tan assembles the ingredients and brews it up.

While the brewing happens, Lorana sketches Colfet and shows it to Kindan, who is impressed with the sketch, and the sketches she puts down of the variations in the bugs. He wants to know how good she is with colors, and Lorana points out she couldn’t afford colors, so she doesn’t know.

Valla’s not a fan of the brew, and Kindan leaves to go find him, and Lorana says if she needs to get a hold of anybody, she’ll go talk to K’tan’s dragon, which gets both of their attention, and K’tan mentions there’s going to be a Hatching soon. Lorana mentions that J’trel thought she would be a Weyrwoman because of being able to talk to any dragon, but nothing happens immediately.

It also turns out that Sannel and Lorana have been given more information about germ theory, proper quarantine, and sickness practice than some of the humans seem to have been.

She knew, from her work with her father, how some herdbeasts would get sick and pass the sickness on to others. She knew from bitter experience that people could also pass sickness from one to another.
Her father had taught her that the best cure for sickness was among herdbeasts was isolating the whole herd if one became ill.
“Even the healthy ones?” young Lorana had asked in amazement.
Her father had nodded. “They might be healthy today and sick tomorrow. That’s why the quarantine. We keep the sick from the healthy.”
“And if they don’t get sick?”
“Well, we leave the herd isolated long enough to be sure no more beasts are getting ill,” he’d told her.
When the first incidents of Plague had been reported, and worried rumors were flying thick amongst holders and crafters, Sannel had said confidently “This is a human illness. It may affect the herdbeasts, but it won’t affect the dragons or fire-lizards.”
Lorana knew that had something to do with the differences between native organisms and those transplanted from Earth. Could it be, though, that humans or herdbeasts could carry an illness that would affect fire-lizards?

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. It’s generally pretty rare across species that don’t share a lot of common genes, but it’s always possible that something that’s harmless to humans could be lethal to fire-lizards. Or, say, that ingesting certain prions from infected cattle could cross the blood-brain barrier and be very harmful to humans. Or that the zombie apocalypse is carried on mosquitoes. It’s entirely possible that humans are a disease vector for things lethal to fire-lizards and their family, and that fire-lizards and dragons are a vector for things lethal to humans.

I mean, I knew that genetics would have to be taught among the Beastcraft, and they would learn/know certain things about infection disease vectors, but how is it that the daughter of a Beast-herder knows more about these things than a Weyr Healer and a Harper that literally rediscovered things like barrier methods to prevent infection? As usual, the science on Pern makes no fucking sense.

Lorana is eventually entranced (perhaps aided some by feeling light-headed) by various pieces of glass set into the Weyr that reflect and direct light into the darker places. And, apparently, they form a network of light reflected from and to all sorts of places. I guess this was what M’hall was talking about when he said he was forced to polish the mirrors until they shone? Lorana follows the light out to the Weyr Bowl where she sees all sorts of dragons and fire-lizards cavorting. It’s a beautiful scene that she tries to catch on paper, but the beauty is also marred by the presence of some unmistakable coughs among the dragons and fire-lizards present. There are sick dragons and fire-lizards, and yet everyone seems to be going off the cultural insistence that dragons don’t get sick.

Lorana gets better. Valla doesn’t. Valla will eventually die, and so Kindan is bereft of yet another thing that he loves and cherishes to illness. But in the interim, Lorana gets an excellent drawing of the green sputum that Valla is coughing up, using colors that Kindan has brought. Kindan and Lorana share their stories of having Plague tear their people from them. We get the summary of Dragon Harper, with emphasis on Kindan being fourteen and all alone after the Harper dies to do the best he can.

“You must have been very brave,” Lorana said in awe.
“I was very tired,” Kindan said with a shake of his head. “I was too tired to be brave.”
“Very brave,” Lorana insisted.
“They needed me,” he said simply, his voice full of emotion. “I couldn’t leave them.”
“What about your family?” Lorana asked, trying to change the subject to something less painful for the harper.
“I have a sister still alive,” he told her. “My father and all my brothers are dead.” He grimaced. “Most died in a cave-in, the last died of the Plague.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My story’s not that different from many others,” Kindan replied with a shrug. “And better than some.”

Keep this sympathetic portrayal in mind for the next part, which is after Valla has died, and M’hall and K’tan make the hard decision to ban fire-lizards from the Weyr as potential disease vectors. Kindan is not holding up well from the death of his fire-lizard, despite Kindan having “survived the loss of a watch-wher, and he lived through the Plague.” (To his credit, K’tan says Kindan is holding up “As well as any,” so it’s decidedly ambiguous about how well Kindan is actually holding up versus what the expectation of his holding up would be, based on his survivor status. So, this is Kindan now:

“You must leave,” K’tan said to her.
Lorana looked up from her drawing of fire-lizards, eyes stricken. Behind him she could see Kindan, his eyes burning with hate.
“You killed the fire-lizards,” Kindan snarled at her. “You brought the sickness.”
“You must leave,” K’tan repeated.
Yes, I must leave, Lorana thought to herself. This is my fault. I must go into quarantine. Until…until…
Lorana woke with a start, sweating. She looked around, trying to place herself. It was late, dark. She had been dreaming.

Oh, well, nevermind then. Lorana’s still mostly keeping to herself, though, because she’s still an uncertain risk for fire-lizards and dragons. With this dream, though, she resolves to get out of Benden Weyr and quarantine herself until she knows she’s not dangerous.

Her plans are derailed quite firmly by the gnawing hunger in her stomach. Which turns out not to be her stomach at all, but a dragonet’s. A dragonet that has specifically left the Hatching Ground looking for her, which wipes out Mirrim and Path as being unique characters on that front. The gold’s name is Arith, and Lorana Impresses because she helps Arith get her claws untangled from her wings. And then, as the company Lorana is in, who have been chasing the dragonet, introduce themselves, Lorana realizes she’s meeting Nuella (who was worried for a moment that the dragonet was coming to Impress her) and M’tal, and that this Impression means she doesn’t have to go anywhere, to get away, or anything else, because now she has a home and a purpose as a gold dragonrider.

Plus, having a dragon helps to erase your worries and sadnesses.

All the pain, the loss, everything that had gone before in Lorana’s life was redeemed, erased, made nothing in the warmth of Arith’s love.

That’s some pretty powerful shit, man. It’s consistent with what we’ve seen and heard from other dragonriders about their Impressions, but all that tragedy and sadness in Lorana’s life gets wiped away by her new dragon? That seems pretty terrible, actually, if it were a human set of relationships — all your pain and suffering goes away, but at the cost of being utterly obsessed with someone and having them set a psychic bond to you for the rest of your life. If that bond ever goes sour, or the relationship does, that’s going to suck. (It never does, because this is Pern and the dragons are the best therapists on the planet, because they basically absorb whatever emotions get sent at them and don’t particularly care about a whole lot themselves past eating, sleeping, bathing, and spitting fire at Thread.)

Ten of the thirty-two eggs never hatched, Kindan tells Lorana the next day, which is an infinite percentage more than the zero stillborn eggs that have happened with Breth up to this point. We won’t know if any of them would have turned into a Ruth, of course, but given what Jaxom did was considered a severe breach of protocol, they probably wouldn’t even think of it. Nor are they necessarily going to open the eggs and see if there’s anything inside that could provide a useful clue through autopsy. What they are going to do, though, is have Lorana keep sketching any sputum that comes out so they can track changes, talk with other Weyrleaders and see if they have similar rates of stillbirth with their clutches, and otherwise pick Lorana’s mind about herdbeasts. When Lorana protests that dragons aren’t herdbeasts, Kindan points out that they’re not so different that the knowledge pools can’t cross over.

At which point I wonder why dragonriders don’t apprentice out to the Beastcraft, or whether the Weyrlingmaster should always be hired or Impressed from the Beastcraft, and why there isn’t nearly as much cross-pollination of knowledge as there really needs to be so that there are reserves of people who know what they’re doing when animals or people get really sick and there’s a worry that some significant amount of the population isn’t going to make it through the night.

Also, Lorana meets Tullea, and I swear the authors couldn’t have made her characterization “BITCH” any more than if they had decided to tattoo it across her forehead for everyone to see.

“Are you going to wait until she dies from hunger, or were you perhaps hoping that her keening would disturb the whole Weyr?” a voice from behind her demanded caustically.
Lorana spun around to come face-to-face with a woman not that much older than herself. The woman’s face had a pinched look, as if she had been caught in a perpetual sneer. Her blue eyes were pallid and her lips were pulled tight in a thin line. Blond hair was pulled together behind her neck.
“I don’t know where the Feeding Grounds are,” Lorana said apologetically.
“Peh! Some Weyrwoman you’ll make!” the other returned. “Didn’t bother to listen to the orientation, did you? Too high and mighty. Expect the rest of us to look after you, do you?”
“No, I–”
“It’s not as though we all don’t have our own dragons to look after–”
[…Minith, Tullea’s dragon, helpfully directs Arith to the right place, and Lorana thanks her, which seems to wind Tullea up more when Lorana admits she can talk to all dragons…]
The look on the other rider’s face quickly disabused her. Trying to be civil–after all, the queen had helped Arith to the Feeding Grounds–Lorana stretched out her handand said, “I’m Lorana.”
The other eyed her hand dubiously but did not take it. “Tullea, Weyrwoman second,” she said, still looking like she’d just bitten into a bitterfruit. [Lemons! Limes! They exist! Why have they not been mentioned until now?] “Salina asked me to check on you,” she added in a tone that made it clear what she thought of that imposition.
“That was very kind of Salina,” Lorana replied, desperately trying to place the name, but failing. She knew she’d heard it before, but she was too groggy to dredge up the memory.
“You don’t know who she is, do you?” Tullea asked accusingly.
“Her Breth is Arith’s dam,” Lorana temporized, feeling overwhelmed by the other woman’s manner.
“Salina is the senior Weyrwoman,” Tullea snapped. “Don’t you know anything?”” She didn’t give Lorana time to respond before continuing. “Well, obviously you don’t. I can’t see what sort of help you’ll ever be. Perhaps it would be best if–”
Minith erupted in a loud disapproving roar, cutting Tullea off. Tullea looked up at her dragon, her eyes softening somewhat.
“Now look what you’ve done, you’ve upset her.”
“I’m sorry,” Lorana muttered. Silently, she said to Minith, My apologies, gold dragon.
Minith gave Lorana a pert nod, eyes whirling red-green.

This is my impressesd face.

Seriously, is there some sort of rule of literature or storytelling that if you have people in some sort of heirarchical order, whether de jure or de facto, that at least one of the people the protagonist will have to deal with will be someone whose plot purpose is to make life miserable for the protagonist? I’m fucking sick of Mean Girls politics showing up in this world every single time, and apparently everywhere as well, because it happened with Menolly and the Harpers. It probably would have happened with Kelsa and Nonala eventually, but they were the curiosities. And also, there’s Kylara and Brekke. Going back to the well of old ideas in new era does not mean that you have done wonderful storytelling. It means that you’ve managed to avoid growing and changing and making your world better, having had several decades of criticism to absorb and either respond to or ignore. Why don’t we have a Weyrwoman heirarchy where “junior” means “still responsible for stuff, but not the final decisions” and “senior” means “chooses the Weyrleader and has final say on the things that the Weyrwomen have jurisdiction over.” (Of course, what they Weyrwomen have jurisdiction over is far, far less than they should, despite being high-ranking officials in the Weyr.)

And what does everyone think Tullea’s problem is? She needs to get laid, apparently.

M’tal pursed his lips tightly before saying, “Tullea seems to–”
“Have problems dealing with people recently,” Salina finished.
“M’tal arched an eyebrow in disagreement. “Recently being the past three Turns,” he corrected.
“You mean she’s like that with everyone?” Lorana blurted and then clapped a hand over her mouth in surprise. The other three laughed.
“I’m afraid so,” M’tal said when he’d recovered, eyes still dancing with amusement.
“You shouldn’t feel singled out,” K’tan added.
“I’m sure she’ll settle down when Thread comes,” Salina said.
“Or her dragon rises,” M’tal added.
Preferably when her dragon rises,” K’tan murmured.
“Her dragon hasn’t risen yet?” Lorana asked, feeling the beginnings of some sympathy for Tullea.
K’tan leaned in close to Lorana, to murmur, “We’re hoping that a mating flight will calm her nerves.”
“Or something,” Salina added, arching an eyebrow at K’tan.

Because the cure for whatever makes a woman bitchy (although, on Pern, it’s for whatever makes a dragonrider bitchy, so I suppose that’s an equal-opprtunity facepalm?) is to get her laid. Or, in this case, to get her dragon laid. And that seems to be exactly as far as anyone has investigated into this matter, assuming that it will work itself out once there’s either Thread to flame or mating to be had.

I’m pretty sure this is not seen as normal behavior for a dragon, and especially not for a queen dragon. And yet, the incuriosity of Pern persists. They assume that they already know the answer to the problem. Certainly not something they need to be concerned about, and especially not now, when they’ve already seen that dragon fertility might be affected by whatever this ailment is that’s being passed around. (I mean, it’s entirely possible the dragon is ace, or not interested at all in any of the dragons in the Weyr, but they should be trying to rule out biological causes and make sure the dragon is healthy before going on to other theories.) And they’ve had several years to investigate this phenomenon and try to determine what the cause really is, because whatever it is, if there’s no rising to mate, then they can’t test that as a solution and should look elsewhere. Why has the scientific method not survived to Pern? There are several professions and guilds on the planet that could use it, even if it were one of their closely guarded secrets. Argh. The patchworkness of what knowledge survives and what doesn’t is basically plot-driven, and all of these flashbacks to the First Fall era aren’t convincing me that there’s an overarching plot at all.

Getting back to the plot, Arith is apparently a prodigy of a dragon, according to K’tan, who may have observed the entire exchange without doing a damn thing to stop or divert it. Since Arith pops between and back and is making her own kills ahead of schedule, and K’tan says it’s not completely normal for Lorana to always know where Arith is, even when Arith is in hyperspace. Before K’tan can say more, Salina and M’tal arrive to talk to their newest Weyrwoman. Salina asks what it’s like being able to talk to all the dragons, and Lorana suggests it’s like constantly being a room with your best friends. Which sounds like hell if you’re someone who wants to have time alone in your own head (with, perhaps, your own dragon), but Lorana is apparently extroverted enough that this is good for her. Lorana swears up and down that she’s not eavesdropping intentionally, and mentions that the dragons do a lot of conversing among themselves that the humans really don’t know a whole lot about, if anything. Salina speculated on whether Lorana can talk to watch-whers, too, but Lorana says she’s never tried. (Also, it requires a completely different set of visualizations, as we know.)

Salina and M’tal are relieved to hear that Lorana’s experience with fire-lizards includes mating flights, so they don’t ahve to have an awkward talk with her about those things. Although it seems the dragons are filling in the gaps.

“Oh,” M’tal responded, his tone both enlightened and relieved. “So you’ve been through a mating flight.”
Lorana nodded emphatically, “Yes, definitely through,” she agreed, her eyes flashing with amusement.
“It’s a bit more intense when a queen dragon mates,” Salina cautioned. M’tal grabbed at her possessively and pulled her close to him. Salina smiled and curled against him, wrapping an arm possessively around his waist.
“So I’ve been told,” Lorana said. The dragons had just filled her in, and she couldn’t help but smile.
“The dragons told you?” M’tal asked.
“Well, not told, as it were, more showed,” Lorana admitted.
“When?” M’tal asked incredulously.
“Just now,” Lorana answered.
“Showed?” K’tan asked.
Lorana frowned thoughtfully. “Sort of like a flurry of images and emotions,” she reported. She caught the alarmed look that passed between Weyrleader and Weyrwoman and quickly added, “All very dragonish.”
M’tal and Salina looked relieved, and Lorana guessed that they’d entertained the notion that the dragons might have conveyed intimate details.

Which makes me wonder whether dragons have porn, or enjoy replaying their own and others’ memories of mating flights for enjotment. Or whether they have those images of their humans, and enjoy replaying those images and memories of the humans mating. Xeno-pornography would definitely be a booming business, if you could get more than just what was looking on screen as part of your experience. Also, given how much sexual activity happens in the Weyr, and the regular orgies, I am a bit unsure as to why M’tal and Salina would have much embarrassment on modesty grounds about themselves. It’s likely Lorana will be seeing them naked at some point, unless they manage to always get to privacy before the gestalt takes over and they screw like dragons, and Lorana has already pointed out to them that she’s familiar with the emotional states and other things that come with fire-lizard mating. It’s a difference of degree, as Salina points out, rather than of being completely new to the experience.

There is food, and conversation, but Lorana doesn’t pick up on the subtext until it becomes a little too textual, with Breth coughing rather loudly and apologizing for it, as to why everyone might be very interested in Lorana’s knowledge and sketching abilities.

There’s a segment here, but it essentially boils down to “D’gan

doesn’t care that one of his riders’ dragons is sick, seeing it as yet another challenge to his leadership, even as the Weyr Healer says it’s potentially the stuff that the fire-lizards have had. He insists, against common sense, that all his riders must fly their appointed training, without any assistance from the Weyr Healer at that exact moment.”

Why is that asshole still in charge at Telgar? By this point in time, he’s long since proven himself woefully incompetent at leadership, uninterested in things that he really should be paying more attention to, and he’s a terrible person, to boot, all ego and no substance. Why hasn’t he been murdered or run off on an errand somewhere when there’s been a mating flight, or had a conspiracy put against his leadership to make sure that he never gets anywhere near that kind of power ever again? What he seems to have going for him is that he’s a bully who’s not above being violent to his riders. But. Just. Why is he still here?

Also, the sick dragon and rider get lost in hyperspace because their Weyrleader is an asshole. We find this out after we’ve shifted back to Kindan, K’tan, and Lorana, as they try to puzzle out how long it takes for the infection to mature and how the illness progresses in the fire-lizards, since they seem to run a faster course with it, so they can figure out what the dragons will be like, too. All they get out of it is the idea that they should try to prevent any fire-lizard or dragon from warping themselves into hyperspace when they’re sick. Which is a nice idea in theory, but Breth proves to them that they can’t hang on to a dragon in practice, Lorana tries to follow Breth to her destination through hyperspace, even though it’s a very long trip, but she can’t hold on to the queen, and then she seems lost and can’t bring her consciousness back to her. Only after she bumps up against an “other” and is “rebuffed” by them does Lorana pass out.

And that’s chapter 9. The fan is just beginning to warm up for all the things that will be hitting it soon.

Deconstruction Roundup for July 5th, 2019

(by the Slacktiverse and others; collected by Silver Adept, who has completed another orbit about Sol.)

The point of these posts is threefold:

  1. To let people stay up to date on ongoing deconstructions. (All ones on our list, including finished and stalled ones, here.)
  2. To let people who can’t comment elsewhere have a place to comment.
  3. To let people comment in a place where people who can’t read Disqus can see what they have to say.

Elizabeth Sandifer: Eruditorium Press

Fred Clark: Slacktivist

RubyTea: Heathen Critique

Ross: A Mind Occasionally Voyaging

Silver Adept: Here on The Slacktiverse

Let us know, please, if there are errors in the post. Or if you don’t want to be included. Or if there’s someone who you think should be included, which includes you. We can use more content. Or if you had to endure the explosives in the sky this week. Or for any other reason, really.