Flights


Chapter 2: Chasing Aliath
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It was a relief to be home again, even if Jordan and Ithate's rather... unusual vacation to Weyr Eriol had been a good idea. The Minister of Trade and Communications (for that was Jordan's 'rank' in the scheme of things) was simply happy that his wife had let him out of the dog-house again, let alone that she was speaking with him! Ithate... well, Ithate was still bubbling that being the one being chased was a novel experience, and that damn, offworld dragonesses were fast, and more importantly, fun! The black-brown mutt had enjoyed himself far too much, as far as Jordan was concerned.

I can feel you thinking in the back of my head, Ithate. What are you plotting, now? The Minister was currently inching his way through the huge pile of notes and paper-work (Well... computer-work...) that had piled up in his inbox while he was gone. Ithate was notorious for his charisma, and his ability to convince other dragons to follow him into foolish plans.

~They aren't foolish, they're perfectly logical!~ Ithate's distinct voice replied, picking up on his bond's mental ramblings. ~And besides, you can't tell me that last time wasn't fun.~

I can't disagree, no. But you better not be getting yourself--or anyone else for that matter--in trouble! Jordan stretched back in his chair, taking a break. He could feel a number of his vertebrae popping... he'd been hunched over the holographic console much too long...

~What, me? Trouble? Do I look like trouble?~

You look like a black-masked bandit for a reason! Now spill it. What's up?

~Well....~ Ithate paused, his mental presence still quite there, but not audible. He was taking a moment to put his words together, which couldn't be good. ~I was thinking. You know the Minister of Public Relations, he's getting his presence known offworld...~

Jordan fiddled with a pointer-pen, grimacing. As he's supposed to, he replied. And then he relays trade agreements to me. You know that already.

~Exactly, but he's usually talking to other people of your type, mostly, right?~ 'Your type' being humans, or human-like people. Not dragons... ~but what about my type of people? Maybe we need some representation too.~

And don't tell me, Jordan all but laughed aloud, You're the dragon to do it. That's what you're thinking, isn't it?

~You're so perceptive, my dear man. I could always go out, speak with some dragons, make some trades here and there, and bam! We'd be on the map all over the Nexus.~ A feeling of smug accomplishment washed over the last of Ithate's proposal, and Jordan really did laugh this time.

Ithate, my dear dragon, he replied, his mental voice tinged with good-natured mockery, You wouldn't possibly be sneaking out for more flights, would you?

Silence.

Finally, he heard the mutt's voice again, ~Nooooo.... this is strictly a matter of business!~

Of course, that's why I keep seeing fleeting images of shining greens flitting from your mind to mine, hmmmm?

~I assure you,~ Ithate returned, with all the grave seriousness of a child who lies about stealing cookies from the jar, ~I won't be chasing after any greens, where I'm going.~

Mm hmm, Jordan said, then sighed. If you can manage this and get away with keeping your job, then I can hardly disagree with you. I'm not going to be gallavanting about the Nexus with you, though, of course. I happen to have a solid job in front of me, something that people rely on me to do!

~Blah blah blah,~ the mutt jibed, then brightened, ~But if you give me the go-ahead, I'll get packing! I have lots of plans to make, you know!~ And then the mental presence was gone.

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So it was that Ithate, riding the tail of a teleportation spell, appeared over the Vella Crean, alone. It could be said that he had completely honorable intentions... but that wouldn't explain the way he made several passes over the sprawling, walled city, looking for a hint of glowing hide. Nor did it explain the absolute glee he felt rush through him as he spotted a crimson dragoness glint near a pen of fearful food-beasts. She was obviously going in for a blood-kill... which meant that she was about to rise!

Ithate, thanking his good timing, swooped low and came up a short distance away from the bright red beauty. She didn't give him a second look as she lunged after a particularly fat beast, then set on it as if she wanted to rend it limb from limb. The mutt looked around... did things work here like they did at most other places? He'd been given a crash course at Eriol, when he'd politely asked some of the other males visiting there how things worked--and there, he spotted the tiny (at least to him), heavily muscled woman, standing and straining to keep her dragoness in line. A number of males straggled over towards her... yes, things did appear to work the same way.

The other competitors (and hopefully Ithate would be allowed to chase, given his sudden arrival! He'd give it a try, anyways) had not yet landed, though a number of dark bodies were homing in on the dragoness' vibrant glow. He was really getting worked up for this, now... and seeing the other males arriving through him into a highly competitive gear.

Don't eat it, Aliath! Just blood! The strong, determined mental projection had come from the red's... Aliath's, if Ithate had heard correctly, rider. The mutt almost wished that he could work like the red did: tearing into a kill and sucking it dry, tossing it aside in a show of strength and beauty. As it was, he'd taken up a perch across from her, and spread his grey wings, perking his cyborware ears forward, in full display. She gave him a passing glance as she went for one more beast, snorting her disgust. Oh, but this would be a challenge! Ithate dug his claws into the ground, in anticipation. As the other males finally settled to blood their own kills, or to wait, as he did, Aliath gave a pure, lust-filled howl, and sprung into the air.

This was it! Ithate leapt after her, his dusty wings pumping down, his metal-finned tail slapping the ground just once as he gained altitude. He'd give this lovely red a fine chase, that was for certain.

See Ithate

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Star City Dragonry is copyright (c) Terry Lynn Massey.