Story originally found across 4 pages in ablan_cherry_festival and probably paveh_hold before then; written before 2002; Also contains parts of Demona's page

Simon's life did not start out very nicely. He has heard the story many times, usually from people who hiss at him about it, in harsh whispers before his mother returns.

His mother is Keenae Sengihr, a green riding, dead-speaking healer in the Protectorate. Though she spends most of her time riding around looking for things to 'fix' with her healing talents, she is not always the first choice to call upon for an actual emergency. She can surely fix a wound, break, threadscore or ant-bite... But she's more likely to watch you die and then ask what you'd like done with your body, afterwards.

Keenae's ability to speak with the departed on Pern does not stop there. Her visions of the dead and their influence upon her stretch far off the planet, to others. With that in mind, she went off jaunting about on her dragon Wiredeth, to places far and unknown.

She came back pregnant with Simon, claiming to have found a very interesting little mudball called "Earth". Her report of it differs vastly from the known facts from AIVAS, however. There were mages and superheroes on the "Earth" which she claimed to visit. It was all too likely that it was merely "an" Earth.

But an Earth which contained one member of her family she'd never counted on. Her grandfather Vanya? Well, sort of. This mess of who is whom on different worlds has never been something that poor Simon likes to think about. He'd far rather just work, avoid trouble and remain alive.

Life doesn't come easy to him. His mother, while she truly wanted this child, suddenly changed on her way back to Pern. As if in flight while pregnant, she was determined to lose him. That tactic failed, and she gave birth to him on her twentieth birth day.

Since that day, and her re-arrival on Pern, she has done nothing but mistreat this lad. Though she has educated him strongly in the ways of herbalism and bone setting, she also expects him to act more like a drudge than a son to her. Picking crops, washing and mending clothing, cooking and cleaning for her and whoever she brings home, all these things are standard fare for a slave among men.

All these things he would willingly do -- for someone else. For someone willing to admit they either hate him or love him.

But that person has not appeared yet. Perhaps they never will.

On two legs.

"It's shutting down," someone said. "I can't believe it. After all this time, they're closing up the weyr?"

"I heard it was another one ... leaving. Like those dens and other squat. Proto-something."

"Protectorate," Simon said, dimly aware that the pair speaking were not speaking to him, let alone for his benefit. "It's called the Protectorate."

"Whatever, drudge, just take this glass and fill it up. Don't drop it." The Holder at his mother's party sneered deeply, and Simon did not meet his eyes. Had they met, the Holder would have seen brilliant blue pain in all its clarity. Simon moved away, got the wine out, and dutifully poured the Holder's next glass. It wasn't as if he hadn't had enough already, this was his third. Simon absently wondered where his mother was, if not already with her guests.

That question was answered readily enough when she burst through the finely stitched leather flaps on the main hall's doorway, in her best new gown. She always seemed so different when she was near Holders. When she was around healers, or dragon riders, it was more muted or distant. But somehow she'd changed since she was young.

Wiredeth gave off a croon from her ledge nearby, outside. Simon made sure that everyone had a drink in their hand, a plate of food, the replacements for both were directly nearby, and a place to sit.

Then he darted outside with the grace and speed that his father (and grandfather, on this world) were known for.

"She will kill me, I think," Simon said, flatly.

Why do you believe that, little one? She is not evil.

"But she is cruel. And dangerous. And you yourself have told me she used to be kinder. Why else would someone enter the healing craft?" Simon traced a line along the pebble strewn dragon landing with his booted toe. "At least she lets me eat first... So I don't starve while feeding her foul friends..."

In all the time that Simon was aware, he had been able to sit down and speak with Wiredeth. Perhaps it was that she too felt the minds of the dead like Simon's mother, but perhaps it was that she felt the changes in the woman long before anyone else knew. The green dragon lay her head down, and butted against Simon's midsection.

She will ... she will be aware of your leaving, if that is your wish.

"I do not want to die, Wiredeth. I wish to GO somewhere. Anywhere. Anywhere but here. I'm fourteen turns old, and I've never even seen another Weyr than Alabaster's. And she won't let me back there, either. I don't know why..."

Because another of your father is there. Because Vanya wishes you to be free. He knows.

"Everyone says that... You do..." Simon shrugged and put his long deft hands over the dragon's head knobs and scratched lovingly. "But I still don't know what that means."

He was hunted, hounded like you, captive in his home. He knows the hurt.

The dragoness paused. He also knows that that is not love...

Simon pulled in a breath. So she did know that he was afraid of his mother, for good reason. There was no loving coming from Keenae these years... All this time. And Wiredeth knew it would happen sooner or later. Every Sengihr, or Sanger as it were, sooner or later succombs to one form or another of insanity.

"You're the wisest dragon I have ever met," Simon softly cried. "What would you do? What can you tell me to do?"

You must make that decision, Simon dear. She will have you worn to death sooner or later. She laid her head down on the floor, Keenae may be the death of me, too. But she loves me. I know that. And sometimes even I fear her love.

That said, Simon gripped his shoulders tightly and swayed back and forth. Crying in the evening heat. "Don't say that... Don't say that!" He bundled himself up into a tight foetal curl, and Wiredeth wrapped her forelimbs around him. He was so tiny like this, though he was a tall man. Taller than his mother by many inches, more the stature of his grandsire. They looked alike, Simon though looked older than his young age, while Vanya more resembled a man half his turns.

There there... Simon... rest. Be at peace...

"I can't!" Simon cried from his muffled position. "I can't be at peace until I'm as far away from her as I can be!"

The dragoness thought for a moment. Then she tightened her tail around the boy. That may be arranged...

All the chores were done. Everything was quiet. Simon knew that his mother was sleeping -- hard solid sleep after a long day of drinking and flirting with the holders. They had gone, all but the one she chose to keep with her this evening, and he was soundly asleep as well.

Both of them were far too drunk when Simon put the sleeping herbs in their wine to notice it. So far as they were concerned, they had a fantastic night's roll in the bed furs. They would never remember it.

Simon tucked away two pairs of soft warm leggings into his sack, along with the three nice shirts Keenae allowed him to have, socks, and a single long coat made of dark leather. He also put some bits of the food from the party into little pouches, which he would eat whenever he might need them. He was rarely aware of his hunger, though it often wracked his body.

Looking about in the warm, dimly lit suite, Simon thought he saw something that might be sellable. Something that one of the lordlings had left behind, a brooch of some gaudy colored glass and surprisingly good quality silver. At a gather, that might fetch a sum that could...

Are you coming?

I'm almost ready... Whispered and thought Simon. His heart was racing. He was terrified. What if his mother pried this out of her dragon's mind? The dragon had an uncanny memory, after all. But then, Wiredeth had told him that Keenae spent more time drifting in meditation looking for her 'beloved dead' than speaking with her. She'd gotten her Journeman's knots in healing, the turn after they'd left Rose Circle weyr.

Then, things just got out of control. Simon pondered those days. They must have been happier days, surely, than today.

You cannot think of pursuing the past, my little love... That is a dangerous thing.

But it might --

No, it is dangerous and if we go between too close to her, she will still feel us passing through. Especially into the past...

The thought ran a shiver through Simon's slender body. Why would the dragon say such a thing? Perhaps he would understand someday. But for now... He took his sack and strapped it onto his body snugly, wearing his normal drudge-quality clothing only, and climbed onto Wiredeth's back without the aid of riding straps.

You are a brave fellow, my little dear. The dragoness said. Few will ride without the protection of the harness.

"It's too noisy," Simon whispered. "Now let us go... I ... can't look back. This is all I can do, to get out of here..." He hugged the dragoness' neck, and she walked several paces away from the stone structure where Keenae chose to live. It was a house, not at all like a proper weyr. The gulley beyond was where Wiredeth usually slept, but the shelter that was over her 'dragon couch' was sturdy metal and stone as well. The house would withstand being struck by Thread, lightning or flood.

But Wiredeth had no intention of letting Simon be struck by anything like that. Or by his mother, even one more time. It was over. Now... She flew...

(page 2) Simon on the Run

"Do you think they'll mind?" Simon panted, running back to Wiredeth who waited on a low flat plain near the gather stalls.

That you've stolen your next meal? Well.. some of them might, if they were to know. The dragoness grumbled a bit, I must eat soon too. And, I will be ready to rise again soon. That will be good for me, and for you.

"Why for me?" Simon said, munching on an apple, with a long bread-stick poking out from his shirt's side.

Because it will mean I will forget about all else, and Keenae will not know.

Simon nodded. They had been traveling around off and on for half a turn now, but... that was for SIMON. Half a turn. He was almost fifteen. But to Wiredeth, she was taking him around and then returning to many months ago, living day by day and popping back to find Simon.

He had quickly learned the star patterns necessary to locate himself in time and space. So unlike his grandfather, Vanya -- or Kalkin as he was known later on. That man could barely look down while flying on dragon back. Simon could think of a star pattern in half a moment and be there the next, safe and sound.

It was almost as if he could go between himself. All he needed was a dragon to fly under him. Perhaps it had been because he went between times and spaces not normal for an unborn child? No one could guess, except he and the dragon. Wiredeth taught him the things she herself learned not five turns before, how to judge distance and time and the passage of the red star.

They deliberately chose a time period which was during an Interval. There, she knew he would be safe if he were to be left outside. Thread was the one enemy that humans could only fight if they had time, dragons or flamethrowers. He had only time and her, and she did not chew firestone.

Wiredeth let Simon climb back onto her shoulders, and they flew overland a few kilometers, to a tall ancient tower. There he spent most of his time, watching the flocks of firelizards dancing.

"I think that it's very sad that Alabaster has turned to rust..." Simon said, of the tower. It used to be so very important. But now that the Protectorate had gone, something odd had happened to the people around it. They didn't even remember that it had been inhabited -- though how a building could come to be here without human habitation was a question that they also did not ask.

They'd been brainwashed surely, by the deft mental prowess of the Lord Holder Engell himself. Of course. Or his strange partner in crime, E'tan the brown rider.

Just thinking about that made Simon's belly ache. It wasn't the two bubblies he'd grabbed on the way down, either. It was that the Protectorate was not here, and he was.

But if you want to join them, you must make the betweening, my friend.

"Some day, I must. I can't... I cannot live like this," he said, quiet. His hand indicated the rubble down below them, a lake where the Weyr itself used to be. The quarry long filled in by rain water clogged up and uncared for by expert technicians. The whole place was amazingly run down for having been gone not more than three decades.

Thread had started almost thirty turns before Simon's birth. It was a short fall, as well, so when he would have turned twenty two in his normal time, it would stop anyway.

Perhaps that was why the Protectorate sought to leave? Because they were not needed in these times of clear skies? Well, he didn't know, and he did want to find out. Some day. He would greet the other riders of the protectorate again. And not as a drudge.

With his mind drifting back, Simon didn't notice Wiredeth nuzzling his foot and then leaping between back to her ... hated home. The healer-drudge-renegade leaned his head back on the surface of the worn stone, and watched the beautiful skies slowly turn dark.

Night time was still his favored time to be up. His skin was darkly tanned, but for some reason he often looked a little greenish too. His hair glowed blue-black, and needed to be washed these last few days. It was also growing quite long. It had hit his waist a sevenday ago, not that he'd noticed.

Girls certainly noticed him. And boys. Some of them anyway. Simon wasn't sure whether he ought to try making any friends.

He did not really know how. At least, he had convinced himself that he didn't know. It would come naturally if only he would try.

***

Two sevendays later, with a fresh-caught fish on one line and a basket of liberated apples and breadsticks (it seemed that the baker knew he was there, skimming off the less-attractive of the apples, taking the over-burnt bread, and it seemed he didn't much want to stop the boy), Simon was in a rather good mood. It had rained, a pretty, light summer rain, the night before. The smell of it still drifted through the air, as the sun came up and his day was winding down.

He almost whistled to himself on his way back up to the tower. But his breath caught in his throat when he caught sight of two dragons near his hideaway.

One of them was Wiredeth.

The other was brown Utainth, E'tan's dragon.

He froze in his tracks, daring not to even breathe. For there standing angrily beside E'tan was his mother.

"You don't understand--" Simon begged, "I can't go back -- I can't!"

Keenae's strong fingers clutched at her son's arm. "Of course you can. You've been on dragon back before," she glared at the green who lowered her head in shame, "obviously." The healer's fierce stare broke Simon's will quickly. As it always did.

She was so unlike any others in their family. Even E'tan noticed it, but she had her uses. A sinister smile crossed his face, and he tossed his head. "Keenae, perhaps you ought to sell him off. You know, he's useful around the house, but he's not going to be of much help to you trying to escape."

Simon gasped and his eyes went wide. Wildly, he moved his other free arm, trying to knock Keenae's hand away. Her fingers locked onto his muscle, digging deeply in with her hard painted nails. She looked older than he expected her to be. Why?

"I've been chasing this little pest all over Pern and all through time, E'tan, I'll not lose him so easily now." So she'd been ... it made sense now... But Simon didn't even want to think about going home with her.

"But for the right price?" E'tan said, sweetly and while grinning at the poor lad.

Keenae stopped, and let loose her death grip on the boy's arm. Though he was taller than both others present, he shrank away from their unblinking, narrowed eyes.

"Are you suggesting that you'd like to have him?" Keenae asked, finally. Her voice was flat, but there was a nasty scratch to it.

"I am suggesting that I could certainly ... use ...him." E'tan said, never releasing Simon's eyes from his own pale blue ones. "And I can pay very well indeed."

Keenae tilted her head, and then, while Simon's eyes were draining hot tears down his cheeks, she started bartering for him.

It was quick work. The pair of riders had more than enough experience in dealing with both each other and more conventional traders. Simon stood numbly when E'tan produced what looked like around two hundred marks in a pouch, and handed it off.

He'd planned this, Simon knew. And he also knew that E'tan was running some kind of mental energy on his mother. Was that why she was doing this?

No, child, it is only to get the best price for your sorry skin, E'tan bespoke him mentally. It was a stinging thought, sandy and dry like the desert that E'tan's mind always was.

"I hate you," Simon hissed, almost inaudible. Neither adult turned to ask him who he meant.

"You will not try it again," E'tan warned. Simon sat crouched in the corner of the lab, face burning hot with tears, and his back pressed against the smooth not-quite-stone wall. His arms were riddled with welts, some older than others, and some old enough to be called scars from his mother's beatings.

Usually his skin healed up quickly. But for some reason, E'tan's presence seemed to make him loathe himself so much that he couldn't even concentrate on anything.

Or perhaps it was some mental power he had. E'tan had used many on the boy. But he had never been able to actually coerce Simon into doing something he was either afraid of, or was unwilling to do.

That required the beatings. It made E'tan so angry that some young child -- and one which he himself should have had a hand in creating -- could resist his mind. Simon knew this. It was beyond obvious. Sometimes he felt strong enough to even tempt fate and cross E'tan.

Today was not one of those days.

"It is bad enough that you try to get yourself away from me, you foolish child," E'tan continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "But to try and take my own daughter with you..."

"She hates you!" Simon sobbed from his curl in the corner, lifting his head only enough to speak. "She's just as afraid of you as everything else! Why can't you learn to LOVE something? Without hurting it?"

E'tan spun around, an angry feral snarl on his thin lips, but then his face actually softened. He blinked and looked away, a moment of victory for Simon.

"I do have love, my little friend," E'tan said, "but I cannot have her with me. And my own son -- whom you have not met -- will not come to me when I ask him to."

"So you want me to be a substitute? You're doing a lousy job!" Simon yelled, and then felt a stinging pain along his wrist, E'tan's power kicking in under his defenses.

"I did not say I wanted anything like that. You are not my son, but you will be the father of my grandchild..."

"I will NOT!" Simon yelled.

"You find her attractive. And she likes you a bit more than any of the others I've found."

"You can't just -- pick and choose suitors like that!"

"You are not marrying her, you oaf, you're going to mate with her and nothing more. Until there is a child. And at that point, my little flitter, you may be released."

At that revelation, Simon sank back into the corner. Blinking twice, he cleared his face of tears and wished that his hands weren't so hard from the work he'd had to do with them.

The room was spotless as usual, because of his diligent cleaning. The gleaming floor and walls, the long stone and metal counter tops, the glass cabinets and even the long tube-like water-filled objects which E'tan kept his... subjects ... in; everything was scrubbed down no less than three times a sevenday.

In one of those tubes, stood Devotion, E'tan's daughter. She didn't look human, particularly. It must have been on her mother's side, those long strangely pointed ears, and her thick stubby toes and fingers. Her big brown eyes pleaded with Simon silently, through the glass. But then E'tan aimed a small thought at her, and she fell to sleep, floating.

"So. You will try again, and you will not attempt to escape until I have confirmed that she is with child." E'tan said darkly.

Simon stood shakily, and nodded once.

(page 3) Simon Breaks Through - Contains mature subject matter

Her skin was the color of cream and klah, smooth as the cream itself. Her curled bright yellow hair was stuck to her neck and forehead with sweat. Her three-fingered hands gripped Simon's shoulders. And she cried.

"I do love you," Simon whispered hard in her ear. It was the truth, he did love her. He possibly loved her the moment he'd seen her half a turn before. But the girl who was E'tan's daughter was not meant for love. She was meant for...

It made Simon disgusted, almost enough to lose his passion. However that was far too late, and this time he just knew.

This time it would be the last. His hand trembled as he pushed Devotion's hair away from her reddened eyes. He kissed her, pressed his forehead to hers, and thought to her, please do not hate me...

"It's him I hate," Devotion growled, and she drew her only light closer.

For several minutes they lay in Devotion's perfectly square room, in the dark, warm within each other.

Until they both heard the awful sound of the gate to the hallway being unlocked.

They did not need to even speak the words, he was back again.

"You would think he would let you rest a little before... checking." Simon whispered. "To at least ..." He shook his head. The sixteen turn old boy and his equally young partner clung to one another as long as they could until the footsteps of the brown rider they reviled came near the door.

"Get dressed, Simon. Your things are gathered." E'tan said, voice muffled through the heavy metal door.

"...Gathered?" Devotion whispered. "Oh, Simon... he knows already..." Devotion sat up and clutched at her remarkably narrow waist. Her young body was already quite womanly, but her hips were so narrow... How could she possibly bear a child?

"He ... is being true to his word, Devotion." Simon stated, half angry. He was tired, but making love to her had drawn power into him. It was too late to try anything more than kiss her, now. Before being sent away.

E'tan stepped aside, the bright rectangle of the hallway visible beyond the half-open door. Two attendants made sure that neither young person attempted to flee. Simon reached out, to hold on to Devotion's odd hands one more time. But she refused him, blank eyes turning away as she sobbed into the cotton blanket.

"She will not remember you," E'tan said, quietly. "But sadly I cannot offer you the same treatment. You seem largely immune to it anyway."

"Why can't you let her--" Simon started, but E'tan held his hand up, eyes narrow.

"She is not yours to choose. Do not tempt my anger, boy. I could still send you back to your mother. That is what she thinks I will be doing. I had never intended that." He paused, letting that sink in to Simon's mind. "Be glad I am not pawning you off on that other bastard mistake of mine. Renaud would be a far worse owner than I, child. Your great grandfather knows that."

E'tan turned aside, as he watched his daughter be escorted by a third attendant, down to the lab. "You know, Renaud has a dragon as well, which no one knows about but myself and few others. He's run it ragged. It's almost dead whenever I see it. Horrid conditions. The man controls it like I control most people." He tightened his pale fingers into a fist, "completely."

Gulping back more pain at all this than anger, Simon slipped by E'tan and between the attendants. They were ape-like in their appearance, practically simian. It's possible they were apes, given what E'tan grew in his vats in the laboratory. Whatever apes were, that's what Simon envisioned them to look like.

One of them thrust a satchel (a much nicer one than he'd started his runaway journey with, mind) at Simon, who took it after grunting. The other held out his curved-fingered hand and lumbered down the other end of the hall. Simon had not been that direction before.

"Where are we going?" Simon asked, well aware that these dark-haired beast men could barely understand language, let alone speak it properly. The guard opened a heavy door at the end of the brightly lit hallway, and it led to a darker area.

The floor was matted with rubber, and there was the scent of electricity. Simon knew of it from the days he had spent turns and turns ago at Alabaster, and of it now because E'tan's lab ran on it. Simon was wary.

"How am I going anywhere from here?" He asked, but the creature merely waved his long arm at him and turned around to leave. The door was silent on its hinges, and the sound of being locked came clearly through it.

Simon stared at the darkness around him. He fully expected something to leap out and eat him. Nothing did, however. As his eyes got used to the darkness he remembered his days under the stars.

There were several computer screens on the walls, counters of them. And something in the middle of the room, as well. Another glass tube, but not like the life-containers in the lab. This one was larger, wider around, and it had an opening in it framed in dark metal.

Simon looked over the computer screens. He did not know how to use them, but the pictures on them made him wonder if he'd simply have to point at one of them or say something to make them work. He tried it.

"I need to leave here," he said. The near screen turned from a static-bearing graphite shade to a black screen -- sharp black against the rest of the room's murky darkness. Then symbols lept up in white on the screen. Simon looked at them, it was request:

To where/when>>>

Simon drew in a breath. Of all the places he had been... His recent memories were now unclouded by E'tan's influence. He had hardly been able to form a solid memory this whole turn, but now the old instructions from beautiful Wiredeth came back fully.

"May I instruct you how the stars will be seen at a certain time, season and area?" Simon hazarded. The screen showed a star map.

It was only vaguely familiar to Simon, but then he placed certain stars... It was more than ten thousand years in the future, where they were now, he estimated. Curiosity gnawed at Simon's mind, what was the world like here? What could it hold for him, if things were all in the past?

But that was irrelevant. He knew he wanted to go home -- or as near to it as he could be -- and that home was the ancient ruin of Alabaster Weyrhold, end of the third Pass, southern pern. Summer, two turns past where he'd been before. Night, midnight.

That decided, he thrust into himself the hope that this device which looked like a wildly imagined nozzle to an agenothree tank gone horribly wrong would bring him to his proper destination, the way a dragon would have if he had one to ride.

The machinery whirred to life, and without a moment to prepare, Simon and his few belongings were teleported away from the isolated laboratory.

The place was largely as he had left it. It was more overgrown than before, but that was incidental. The night was cooler than normal, for summer. The weather had probably been different since the lapse from Threadfall. And as always, during an Interval, everyone allowed the greenery to grow wildly and spread.

It was so beautiful here. A dragon passed over head, and he almost panicked.

But Simon did not recognize the blue dragon as he moved over the land. It looked as if the dragon had spotted something below it, and dove down to retrieve it. Perhaps over the hillside beyond, where the wherries ran freely?

Simon was tired, feeling helpless from his recent experiences. He wanted to collapse, to sleep and to feel the night air on his skin after a whole turn of being indoors. He had not seen the sun or the sky, the moons, nor any ground in so long he had begun to suspect they were merely phantom illusions. But here was the real world. Here was the place that he knew and he loved.

And there was a dragon. A foreign one.

His sharp eyesight was getting a work out, after so long in close quarters. His distance vision cleared after only a few squints. The dragon was indeed blue, but appeared to have a female rider, and had appeared to catch whatever it was that it was after. There was a small young wherry in his taloned hands. The dragon swept over the land, and was heading toward Simon and the tower.

More too tired to run than paralyzed with fright, Simon just stood there. Though he dropped his satchel, he made no other moves. If the dragon knew he was there, he might be able to speak to his rider.

As it turned out, they wanted to speak with him.

"Name's Nora," the rider said, she looked healthy and charming, but also looked older than most riders he'd met. "I'm searching. It... it is for a truly special clutch."

"Searching, that's why..." Simon said, and realized he'd spoken out loud. She looked confused, and Simon hesitated, then replied to her gaze, "you look ... older but less worn than other riders. If you don't go out flying Thread, that must be why."

"We haven't had to deal with Thread, for a while. But ... I'm not in my right time, here." She turned, and her expression turned half-sour. "Oh, look at it. This used to be so beautiful."

Stunned, Simon turned Nora around gently with a motion, "... you remember Alabaster?"

"Of course I do. It was one of the best places to find candidates. They had people standing in almost half our hatchings." Nora said, and her dragon Mitanth grumbled something around his meal. "Be nice."

"What did he say?" Simon asked, not privy to the blue's mind the way he had been to Wiredeth's.

"He says that they were all so full of themselves they could barely contain their excitement to be on our sands. Theirs weren't full enough most of the time... Don't be so insulting. They moved just barely after they'd gotten rolling and you know it."

The dragon raised his head and slurped an intestine into his gullet. But they did have some very fine riders leave our sands, after impressing.

Full of themselves, eh? What about you? Simon thought to the dragon, and to his surprise both Mitanth and Nora jolted. "Sorry... I ... I used to speak with my mother's dragon Wiredeth all the time."

"Wir..Wiredeth... Yes. Her." Nora said flatly, lip curled in some kind of memory-disgust.

"What happened to her, Nora? She was my friend, even if my mother was not."

"She's still flying around. Haggard looking. The poor thing is being run between and timing it so much she barely sees the sands anywhere. I feel so sorry for her. And for you." Nora looked at the young man, but not with pity in her eyes. "He says you're fit for our sands. Our last hatching."

"Last? But... Wait. Talor Cliff's last clutch?" Simon said, putting his hand to his head for some reason. "But ... Talor was --"

"Talor and Alabaster ... and some other weyrs, too, are elsewhere. You know that."

"I didn't know that Talor was going! I had no idea! What will..." Simon trailed off. "I was going to say what will the world do without their dragons, but... I can see they're not needed any more. It's a pity to the world then."

Nora placed her hand on the tall young man's shoulder, and smiled. "You're right, it's their loss. Now let's get you someplace warm and happy, son. You look like you need it."

(page 4)

How long could one man wait for his life to begin again? Apparently, Simon was able to wait it out indefinetly. For this odd, "last" clutch of Talor Cliff's certainly did take a while to come about.

There were people genetically engineering the hatchlings, and that might make for some odd results. He gazed at their work, as they plugged this bottle down into a machine, stuck a needle into this egg, moved things around.

It was a bit more manipulative than Simon really wanted to admit. But when the time came, and the hatching started...

When Falora and the dragons insisted that it was all right to assist the eggs in hatching, Simon was greatly relieved. The egg shells were so hard, and thick! After all this time on the hot sands, and after being dormant for so long, some of them weren't even moving.

The first egg began to hatch, and a young man helped the bronze out. Then... Another bronze came out -- and to everyone's amazement and shock, he bonded to a WOMAN! Churana, with the big dragon wings... Churana who could shapeshift and was vaguely related to some other world's version of Simon...

Then a pair of golds, and a little green, bond. Two white came from their shells and one of them... One of them came lovingly to Simon's side.

Though no others could hear their conversation, Simon heard this.

Do you want me? I think I want to be with you, but you are so sad. Always so sad. I can keep you from your mother, and from that awful man. Do you want me? If I can do that?

Simon listened outside of his head, and inside. The buzz of dragon speech had been muffled, almost completely, when Kemroth sat near him. It was as if he really were able to shield him from everything.

After a long pause, Simon smiled, and said, "I'm sure you can, Kemroth."

I am glad you are not afraid to fly, my rider.

"Oh, Kemroth, this will be great!" Simon's smile threatened to break his face. Normally so morose and quiet, since bonding to Kemroth, Simon had longed for even more experiences and people. The dragon's sensible enthusiasm, and natural willingness to be open and honest rubbed off on the dark-skinned young man. He was still hesitant to really jump in and join conversations in the dining hall, or offer more than a quiet opinion on anything in a class, but everyone knew Simon had changed.

He would become bold, but never rash. Except... He was really ready to fly, and for some reason Kemroth -- Wasn't!

They stood on the higher side of the training field, while they watched several groups of other weyrlings. Those bronze and brown dragons were already up in the air, and wonderfull Tessrabia's gold had taken wing almost from the moment she could walk. Kemroth was much much smaller than the others, though average as a white. He felt that his little wings could stand to grow a bit more before flying.

But you're ready... So ... Kemroth spread his wings and dropped his neck, letting Simon hold on with just his legs -- the white's skin was too sensitive for a hard leather strap or saddle. They wobbled over the ground for a few shaking moments, and then dropped back down to the ground as the rest of the class cheered.

"You did it! We did it!" Simon laughed. So enthralled with the event was he that he barely noticed the familiar reed-slender blond-headed shape in the halls above, watching them...

The small white dragon with his timid green-brown-skinned rider bid Talor a sad farewell. They had spent the better part of two years at the weyr as it slowly wound down. In fact, they were among the last to leave.

"I don't know how to say good bye, without being so sad..." Simon said to the weyrwoman and her cadre of friends. "But... you've made my life complete, and I thank you." He bowed deeply, his training as a servant giving him the elegance to do so without seeming awkward.

I would like to thank the flight leaders, Kemroth added, because I am so small I did not grow with the rest of my clutch mates. Forgive me...

"Oh, dear snowy one, you don't need to be forgiven for being yourself..." Falora cooed, and sent them on their way. She noticed the strength of the white's flight, small though he was he would be a talented dragon in the air.

Simon needed only a little nudge in the right direction, she thought. Now if only he could be kept away from danger long enough to become braver...

Kemroth was excited. It was going to be his first mating flight - and a flurry! Somehow he managed to convince Simon that it would be for the best. That the Talor born dragon's line ought not to die out. And, that he would maybe want to find himself a nice girl at this shindig himself.

More about this great mating flurry of 2002 at Ryslen below! (Ryslen Flurry!)

**

Simon and Kemroth become search riders, and eventually free his daughter Demona.

Simon flew his white dragon almost to the end of the world, and back. The freedom that he experienced on the back of the lovely Talor dragon would never pale for him. He'd met his father time and again, at the odd school on one of the Earths out there, and they had become friends easily. He'd continued to outrun his mother. Some day, he would perhaps out live her, too. It was looking as though Van Sanger of Carramba High was immortal - and that passed to his odd Zekiran/Pernese son, as much as his mother's ability to "Genrehop" - that was aided greatly by their vivid imaginations, and Kemroth's teleportation.

Kemroth was expert at flipping through time and space. The Nexus was quite well traveled by them, by the time he decided to settle back down somewhere and try to remember how to live properly.

They found themselves in a place known as White Valley, a known location on Zekira that harbored Renegade Slaves and Bayaran who had escaped their Owners or Bond companies. They had dragons, a couple of them, but there were local dragons too. Snake like things, short-lived and animalistic beasts. Kemroth didn't much like hanging around them.

While they were there, Simon's senses perked up and alerted him - gave him a familiar nasty sensation in his guts. He looked up, into the cloudless early-evening sky, and saw a pale brown dragon, all too real.

"E'tan," he breathed.

Or, just Eton, said a mental voice, clearly in his head. Either Simon had gotten lazy, or E'tan had grown better at his telepathy. Or again, as the voice pointed out, perhaps I am not trying to attack you as I used to.

The way that E'tan said this betrayed an odd sensation. This was not the same E'tan. Something had happened?

When the brown dragon landed beside tiny Kemroth, nearly everyone in White Valley had scattered. They knew this dragon too?

Alone, then, Simon stood on the sandy outcrop overlooking the little Renegade township. Their dragons communicated carefully to one another, neither man reading their thoughts. They both turned away from one another, as though disgusted.

"So you impressed a White," E'tan said, taking off his riding jacket and helmet, which Simon had never seen him wearing before. He looked much more professional. "That's quite a job there. Congratulations."

"... Thank you," Simon said, wary. "What are you doing here?"

"The same thing you are," E'tan lied, "just exploring."

"You're on business, E'tan, don't lie to me." Simon said, curtly and narrowing his eyes. "My question is what business is it?"

"Astute as ever," E'tan muttered. "I've come for more breeding materials. I'm a Breeder, that's what I do."

"You're a criminal," Simon said, lowering his head but not averting his gaze. He'd long learned how to stand up to his aggressors, something that his father taught him on the side, in addition to all sorts of anatomy, healing, teaching and socialization. Aggressive socialization was something that Van of Carramba was quite good at.

"I... yes, I am." E'tan said, almost seeming proud of himself. "But I am also in business. Competition, really. So if you don't mind, I'm going to find who I am looking for, and be back with them shortly."

"What, you're not using the same 'force them and leave them' technique as before?" Simon spat. "Has it ever occurred to you to ask before stealing someone's time or body?"

E'tan turned and looked at the rebellious boy. The boy had grown up - he was close to 200 years old. However, E'tan was closer to 800 or more, no one knew because there was no one around who had known him that whole time. So Simon was still a 'boy' to this yellow-haired pale skinned man.

"Never, actually," E'tan said at last.

He pushed Simon aside, with his narrow shoulder. Shortly, from the township below, there were several shouts, and an angry flapping of wings. It was as though a field of flitters were erupting into flight - but really it was one or two of the local oddities. Heavily Bred escaped Slaves, who had then found one another. Their mutations were so queer that even Simon barely recognized some of them as Human (or, Zekiran, as they really were). One had a carapace like set of wings, which snapped open and carried him into the sky. Another had static electricity dancing around her like a halo, and she vanished into thin air with a popping sound.

There were other, more normal types - two of which E'tan appeared to want with him. They didn't fight him - Simon knew their actions all too well. But he too could do nothing, knowing that they were still Renegades, still within a certain amount of time when their Owners could be looking for them. If they wanted to be free some day, they would do as E'tan said, and be returned not really worse for wear.

They had already been through enough, Simon thought. But... Simon still didn't like the thought of what E'tan was doing. He'd never quite gotten why the man was doing what he was - taking apparently random people and breeding them together. Perhaps they had powers Simon didn't know about, or perhaps they didn't have powers, he wanted to normal-out something else in another person?

Simon should have been born a Breeder, not a Slave. He had the eye for it, if not the true education. Two of the more normal looking people from White Valley crept upon the back of the pale brown dragon, nervously.

E'tan mounted up, while Simon watched. They soared up, into the evening sky, and vanished into the Nexus.

Simon didn't like it one bit. He wanted to turn to the other inhabitants of the Valley and yell at them 'why can't you stand up for yourselves!' but he knew the answer to that already. E'tan would turn them all in, if they resisted.

Simon's curiosity got the better of him, though. He sprinted to Kemroth, clung on to the narrow white shoulders, and said, "follow him."

Follow... follow him?

"Yes, Kemroth, follow him. I want to see if he's still in the same place and time." Simon said, grimly.

The complexities of dragon minds came in handy. They didn't really know where E'tan and Utainth had gone, because they simply didn't tell anyone. But, the dragons had been in communication before hand, and there was a place that was high on the brown's mind, according to Kemroth. An island, off the coast of Kiran's Black Point.

They flew into the sky and waved at the remaining Valley inhabitants, then concentrated on that place.

***

They arrived while it was brightly daylit, though after noon by a bit. So it was the same day, perhaps. The isle was almost entirely uninhabited, save for a building near its center, and some huts along the rim of the jungle. The beach framing everything was quite beautiful, Kemroth would blend right in with its sand. They landed and Kemroth told Simon, there is no other dragon here. They have gone off again, and I will not follow a cold trail. We've done that enough.

"All right," Simon said. "But I'm going to explore, while we're here. No sense in leaving a perfectly nice island like this unexplored."

I will be waiting. I will warn you if they come back.

"Thanks." Simon said, and walked toward the first hut he thought he could see. The thick parts of the jungle made it hard to traverse, until he found what looked to be an old trail. It was quite overgrown, but still visible, so that told him that the place wasn't regularly inhabited. He stepped carefully into the hut, which was largely empty, and sniffed around it. No one home.

The trail led inland, probably to that big building. That was obviously where anything was going to be found - so Simon steeled himself, and set off. It took him nearly twenty minutes to hike into the jungle, and up the slight incline to the clearing where the building sat.

It was a cement and stone, nicely made place. Looked professional enough to be a lab. If this was E'tan's place, that's certainly what it was. Simon thought he heard something in another room, when he entered the main hallway. The building wasn't all that big, but it looked as though it might just be the top of the iceberg. Underground labs could be filling the whole island, for all he knew.

He silently explored a bit and then headed toward where he thought he had heard something. In one room, where there were three people (two of whom were asleep or perhaps in trances), only one walked around at all. She was tall, lean, muscular. She had dark brown skin, was barefoot with oddly shaped toes, and had long straight brown hair. Her ears poked out over the small headband she wore, and her clothing was suited to this warm equatorial area.

"I swear I can never just get anything done without being interrupted," she said, her voice was slightly nasal and a bit chilly. "What is it now?" She turned - but froze. This was not who she expected to see, this was a stranger? On the island?

Her hand (which had three stubby fingers and a thumb, a strange trait, but one which Simon was naggingly familiar with) fumbled toward an alarm button on a piece of machinery.

"Wait, wait," Simon said, holding his own hands out. "Please, I didn't mean to interrupt- I'm here - um," he stammered suddenly, why was he here?!

The young woman's face was smooth, round, but had long lines beside her downturned nose, dark green eyes gleamed out from her rich skin. "... Who are you?" She asked, putting her hand down. Her heart was racing. Something was really wrong.

The pair of sleeping people nearby stirred a bit, until the woman turned back to them and exerted some kind of mind control on them. She was actually placing them into a dreaming loop - which would last until she took them out of it again. How Simon knew this was beyond him - his own power over dreams had only barely manifested itself.

"I - my name is Simon, I'm ... I was looking to follow E'tan, but he's not here at all is he?" Simon said.

"... No, he's not. He did come by earlier, but I've been working alone for some time." She still hadn't removed her eyes from his, she kept gazing at Simon oddly. At last, she said, "why do you look just like me?"

Simon's heart stopped, or at least it felt as though it had. His hands and limbs got cold. "... oh." Was all he could get out.

"You know why?" The young woman said, tilting her head. She looked strong, nimble, less green than Simon did. "Tell me!" She sounded rather more excited and curious than demanding.

"... You don't know where your mother happens to be, do you?" Simon said, weakly. He glanced around a bit, but wouldn't find her here.

"My mother isn't here, she's at the Vin facility." Then suddenly the girl inside the woman snapped wide awake. "You're my father. That's why."

"I think so," Simon said. "I mean, it couldn't be anything else. I have siblings but none of them are like you. And ... it was a long time ago, for me, but you can't be older than twenty..."

"Lord E'tan sometimes talks about you, but only in passing," the girl said. "Oh - I am Demona. And you are Simon."

"Simon on White Kemroth," Simon announced more formally, drawing himself up a bit. "I'm a dragon rider, now. I ...wasn't, when I knew your mother."

"She never speaks of it," Demona said.

"That's because E'tan made her forget me." Simon said, sadly. "I... didn't want it to be that way."

"No one does," Demona said. "But that's the way he works."

Simon looked around, and then his gaze went to the pair of people on the comfortable looking lab platforms. They appeared to still be sleeping, not really tied down or anything, but not moving.

"Oh, I'm working with them. Would you like to see?" Demona said, almost hopeful. "I don't get anyone real here any more. E'tan doesn't allow visitors. He'll be furious when he finds out about you."

"No, I don't know if he will be," Simon said. "And yeah, what ... exactly are you doing?"

Demona went to the pair, they looked like normal everyday people - to Simon's eyes they were still a bit odd because they were Zekiran, so 'normal' meant deeply red skin on the one, vibrant yellow with green spots on the woman. "I'm catching their thoughts, and downloading them to this machine. It can record their memories."

Simon's eyebrow went up, "why?"

"Why not?" Demona asked. "Because E'tan wants them, that's why. I can't question my Lord, can I?" She was neither sad nor affronted, by that, but seemd affected none the less. "You do not approve of this."

"I ... don't know what to say. I think I just hate E'tan enough to question anything he does, no matter how typical it might be for you to do it." Simon admitted. "What do their memories tell you? What would he want from them?"

"You're awfully curious for a coward," Demona said, offhand. That was obviously what E'tan had taught her, about him. Yet, she did not refuse to tell him anything. "They are land holders on a particular plot of land. He wants to know if they've ever seen anything like this:" she aimed a clear picture of an odd stone into his mind. "But they're not really the most perceptive of people, so just asking them didn't work. I need to sort through their memories, so I'm placing them here," she patted the recording device, "and then I'm going to look through it later."

"Seems like time consuming work for just a rock."

"It's not just a rock... but if you don't know about that I'm not really supposed to tell anyone about it. It's important, that E'tan stay away from it. He'd like to have it all drawn up into one place, but there seems to be a bit more of it than we'd first thought."

"Abducting people so you can find a rock that he's supposed to stay away from..." Simon repeated, the short version sounded a bit more ridiculous than Demona's assesment had. This was not lost on her - she was at least as intelligent as he, and she began to smirk.

"It... does sound a little odd, doesn't it?" She said.

Simon approached her carefully, while they were still laughing. "Please, um, you understand I just want to - make sure you're real?" He said, his hand carefully up and seeming to tremble.

Demona smiled, her small lips pulling back to reveal big white teeth - Van's teeth, really. She grasped Simon's fingers and put them onto her cheek. High cheeks, like her mother Devotion's. She had longer fingers and more toes than Devotion had, but the strength in her eyes seemed to come from somewhere else, not even from Simon. They did not know it was her grandmother, Avaur's, trait.

"I'm real. So are you. It's nice to finally meet you. Sometimes I'd wonder who you were, what you were like. Since my mother is ... well, she's a bit spacey."

"It's no wonder," Simon said. "E'tan treated her like dirt. His own daughter."

That made Demona stand tall and still. "... What?" She said, hard and distant.

"Oh - oh," Simon breathed. "You didn't know..." Simon went silent.

"No, I did not know." She said, each word clipped. Suddenly her demeanor went from sweet and helpful to somewhat enraged. It was not focused on Simon, and for that, he was extremely thankful. "How could I? He owns me, he didn't say anything like that. He never mentions it to anyone - how did you know?"

"Because I'm immune to his mind wipes," Simon said.

Demona blinked. Carefully she approached again. "Really." Simon nodded. "Then that explains a lot, doesn't it?"

Simon's eyebrow went up again.

"The fact that he allows me to be here, alone, working for him. Not traveling with him like my mother - attached to him because if his powers weaken around her, she'd remember who she was." Demona stated, rather flatly. "It makes perfect sense. He can't control me, he has never even tried, that I recall."

It suddenly made her feel sick. This revelation that her owner, her Rogue Lord Breeder Etan was her grandfather? How was she supposed to react to that?! Demona sank into a chair, her strong fingers clutching the arm rest of it until it broke open revealing the stuffing inside.

She hardly noticed.

Simon wondered what to do. "I ... I'm a dragon rider," he reiterated.

"I heard. Good for you." Demona said, blandly. She barely blinked, staring straight ahead.

"I can take these two back home, if you know where to show me they live," he suggested with a wave at the pair of Land Holders. "And then we can take you out of here too. To where ever you want to go."

"Why would I want to go anywhere but by my Lord's side?" Demona said, a hint of pain and sharp anger in her voice.

"Because he's not telling you - or anyone - the whole truth about anything. He didn't tell me what his intentions were, when he bought me from my mother. Because he's a criminal, and he's insane." Simon tried to keep it from sounding too much like a list. But he'd had many many years to think on this matter, and no one to tell the results to. Until now.

"And because I can just take you away and give you the freedom to go where you want to go, and because you're my daughter." Simon added, more softly.

It took many minutes for Demona to think on this. Normally, Simon would never have tried rushing anyone on this kind of decision - to leave her Lord, or to run away from home. It took him long enough, anyway. But she had the benefit of a bolder heritage than he had - and a more flexible Lord indeed. Simon absently wondered how much of his own mother's madness this girl would have inherited. It seemed to have passed him by, largely.

"You could take me away?" Demona asked, tears in her eyes. Simon was getting wave upon wave of emotion from her, now. It hadn't been easy to identify, but her emotions grew stronger and stronger until the young woman broke down in tears.

Simon embraced his daughter - his daughter - for the first time, swaying with her until her tears subsided. His kept coming, but he was used to that.

"I will if you wish me to." Simon said, to her question.

"I do wish." Demona said. "You said you'd take care of them?"

"We'll do that first, I'll show you how it's done." Simon smiled, and helped her out of the chair. "Can you convince them they haven't been taken away from their home?"

"Not really. That would be something that Etan would do."

"Then they'll have to live with it, he'll get them later." Simon announced, "wake them up."

She did so, disengaging the machinery which she'd been working with as well. The pair woke up, disoriented, panicky. Simon's senses flaired up, he could tell they were quite scared. It had been a long time since his Zekiran-born senses had gotten this much of a workout. It was odd, like hearing a sound again after ages of deafness.

"Kemroth will take them, and then us." Simon announced. Demona looked to the sky, where the bright Kemroth swooped over the trees.

Her eyes lit up, and her face became young again - she always looked so serious around her Lord or even her mother. "He's beautiful!" She cried. "He's not at all like the dragons I've seen!"

"That's because he's not from Zekira," Simon said. He explained, albeit briefly, that Kemroth wasn't from this planet - nor was Simon, really. Demona gave Kemroth the clear information about where the couple's Homestead was, and while they were still a bit confused, the people did understand the concept that they'd be teleporting away to their home - hopefully to live undisturbed again.

Kemroth had a bit of trouble with both of them on his back, they were not exactly skinny people, these Land Masters. But he managed, flew up, and then vanished from sight.

"That's amazing," Demona said.

"Lots of off-world dragons can do it, most of them in fact." Simon said. "If you want, I could bring you to some of the weyrs or caers they are bred in."

"Could you? I'd love to see them. They sound fantastic." Demona said, waiting, scanning the sky for the return of this beautiful white dragon.

"Then that's what we'll do. But I do want to take one more side trip first. It's kind of important."

"I don't want to mess anything up," Demona said. "I'll try not to be in the way."

When Kemroth returned some minutes later, Simon smiled and laughed at Demona's worries. "No, I think you'll actually want to be in the way. I want you to meet your other grandfather."

They then find a different version of Zekira to return to, though things aren't entirely safe he's far better off there!