Rise of the Dragon

I am Ulfgar, the man who has brought many species back from extinction, the man who created Dragonettes.  I sit alone in my office above the laboratory that fills the warehouse below.  I look absently out the broad windows to where my apprentices work below, struggling to grasp the knowledge I seem to instinctively possess.

Something is amiss though, and no matter how much I look I can’t work out what it is.

A quick knock comes at the door and I spin casually knowing it is my friend Larrath, and I bid him enter.

“Some men are here to see you.” Larrath says.

“Well who are they?”

“They said they had some important business deal to talk to you about.  They wouldn’t say what it was.”  Larrath is speaking calmly though his eyes betray the fact that he already doesn’t trust these men.

“Well, let us hear this deal and then we can decide on it”

Larrath exits the room and returns a moment later with two men in stiff business suits in tow, and indicates for them to take the two seats before my great oaken desk.

“Ulfgar Theraven?” the man on the left asks as they take their seats.

I nod silently and indicate for Larrath to take the seat at my side.

“We are here to speak to you, privately, about a business matter of great importance.” the one on the right states plainly, with emphasis on the ‘privately’

“Larrath is my business partner.  I keep no secrets...”

“Still,” the man on the left interrupts, “We would like the chance to speak to you alone first.”

“Very well.”  I indicate for Larrath to leave.  “Please wait in the outer office for me?”

Larrath leaves the room, eyeing the men suspiciously before closing the door.

I lean back in my seat, my hands spread in an open gesture upon the desk to mask me pushing the button under its lip.  “Now what is this about?”

The man on the right takes the lead “We wish to propose an idea to you, one that will make you a very rich man.  We want you to make us larger versions of the Dragonettes you created.”

“We wish to use them as a safer, faster, and more reliable method of transport throughout the world” pitches in the man on the left.

“So,” I answer, “you want me to create a creature that you wish to use as a beast of burden.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” replies the man on the right.  “We want creatures that we can work with.  They would be cared for, be well fed, you name the conditions under which we are to look after them and we will see it done.”

I have to think for a minute before replying.  “So you’re saying that you’ll cover all expenses, treat the Dragons I create with respect, and follow my requirements to the letter?”

“Yes” is the twin reply.

“I will have to think on the idea.” I state. “I shall have to weigh the benefits against the potential risks involved.  Even then, I don’t know if the project is even possible.”

“We hope that you will see there is no risk to this.  We will provide everything you need to complete this work.” the man on the left says.

With a final nod of assent, they both rise from their seats.  “We would still request that you not repeat this conversation to anyone, not even your business partner.  If our rivals found out about what we planned, things could get messy.”

“You have my word that I will not repeat this conversation to another soul, not even to Larrath.” I intone.

“Then we thank you for your time. Mr, Theraven.” replies the man on the right as he follows his fellow out the door.

I shake both their hands and have Larrath show them out.

“Did you get all of that?” I ask as Larrath returns.

“Every word.  Do you believe what they said?”

The office is quiet.  Everyone has either gone home or gone out, but I have much to think about.  It has been a week since those two men came to my office and asked me to create Dragons from my Dragonettes, and the more I think about it, the more I hate it.  Creating a living creature purely to do the work that men don’t want to do just feels wrong in my mind.  The Dragonettes are enough as it is.  They eat more than a fully grown adult and take on the personalities of their owners.  Some are already becoming unpredictable and dangerous in the incapable hands of a few, and these men want me to create bigger versions.

I have decided the risks are too great.  Even if I were to manage to create a shell big enough for the first generation to mature in, there is no guarantee that the creatures can be controlled at all.  I have no doubt that I can create the embryos, but the shells, and the size they will have to reach are something else.  Increased size would allow for increased brainpower, and with increased brainpower comes the will to be free of the rules that those two men will no doubt place around them.

My mind wanders, going again over my reasons for creating Dragonettes, and I know I shouldn’t have created them.  I fold my arms on the desk and lay my head upon them.  I shouldn’t have created something that had not naturally evolved on the planet, should not have made creatures that the world had not adapted to over time.

Larrath’s knock at the door rouses me from my slumber; a piece of paper stuck to my face.  I pull it away and answer the knock with a rough “Come in.”

Larrath peers in through the door, and announces “They’re here.” then disappears again.

A minute later another knock sounds, and the expected men enter.  Larrath indicates the same seats as before, and then takes a seat to my left.

 “The answer is No.” I speak over whatever it is they were going to say.  “The endeavour is too dangerous and I won’t be a part of it.”

“I would beg you to reconsider your decision,” the man on the right replies.  “We would ensure you have everything you need to ensure the success and safety of this project.”

“I have made my decision on the matter.  It has nothing to do with you or the chances of success, but the world is not ready for such a change, so my answer is No.”

“Sir,” the man on the left grates out the word between clenched teeth, drawing attention to himself, his following words becoming more and more frenzied.  “I don’t think you understand the importance of this project.  No one has the experience to accomplish this except you.  You need to consider all the information.  You need to consider what this project will do for the world.”

They are pointedly ignoring Larrath but he breaks into the conversation nonetheless, drawing their withering attention away from me with the angry tone of his voice.  “I believe he has given you his answer.  He would not make a decision such as this without considering every conceivable angle!  Now I am going to have to ask you to leave.”

They sit as though they are glued to their seats and look toward me, so I gesture toward the door.  They rise slowly from their seats and are almost through the door when one of them makes to turn back.

“The answer is still No.” I repeat, and with that they are through the door and out of my sight.  When Larrath returns and announces that they have left, I gestured for my friend to sit.

“I have done the right thing have I not?” I ask of my faithful apprentice become business partner.

“Yes, you have” is the unhesitating answer.  “I cannot believe that they could have anything good in mind with regard to this project.”

I nod and fall into a thoughtful musing, and when I come out of it, I realize that Larrath has silently slipped out when it became obvious my musing would not end any time soon.  I am about to call him back when I think better of it and decide to head home for the evening.

When I reached my home, I am shocked to find the chaos that covers almost every surface within the modest home.  Papers lie everywhere in the lounge and study, clothing covers everything in sight in the bedrooms, and flour and other cooking materials have been purposely spread around the kitchen.

I hurriedly look for the phone and dial Larrath’s cell.  It is a long minute before Larrath answers, and another minute while I describe what has happened to my house.  The last thing I do is tell Larrath to make sure that at least three people are at the workshop at all times.

I have only just hung up the phone when it rings, causing me to almost drop it.  I pick up the receiver “Hello?”

“Grandpa!  Help me!”  Clarissa almost shouts down the line, her voice full of fear.

“Clarissa!  Where are you?” I plead back.

She doesn’t reply, but someone else does.  “Hello Mr. Theraven, would you like to reconsider your answer to our proposal?”  It is one of the two men that came to my office earlier in the day.  “And think before you reply,” the man states before I can say anything. “We have your granddaughter.”

I stand and begin to pace.  I have been working at creating an egg big enough to incubate the first batch of Dragon embryos, and so far every attempt I have made has been a failure.  It probably has something to do with my constant lapses in concentration.  Being threatened with the life of your granddaughter will do that to you.  I have not given up hope that I will be able to find a solution that will work, or more correctly I know I cannot not fail.

An idea begins to form in my mind.  What about using the largest egg I have and then stimulating the hatchling’s growth rather than the embryo’s growth.  My mind fills with the variables as I calculate the chances of this tack working, thumbing through the idea, checking if I can stimulate further embryotic growth outside the shell, while preserving the natural growth rate in future generations.

My mind made up, I sit back at my computer and start the calculations.

After three exhausting weeks I have the eggs.  They are growing at a faster rate than the next generation will, but the genetics I have will revert them to a slower rate after they are mature.  The process has been sped considerably by the fact that creating the Dragonettes has given me a basis for this much more tedious work.  The process is similar, but at the same time altogether new.

I check the serum code before sending it to the synthesizers.  This is the most crucial step; ensuring that the creatures won’t just keep growing indefinitely; that their coded growth rate will reimpose itself at maturity.

I look over the next item on my agenda, then read through the feeding plan that I’ve laid out for the first nine months.  Not even a complete idiot would be allowed to screw this up.  All I wait on is for the men to come sweeping in, take my work away from me, and to give me back my granddaughter.

The door to the workshop slams open and the ‘scientist’; if that’s what you could call him, who has been sent to watch over my progress, enters the room.

“They will be here shortly” the short stocky man says. “Oh, and they will not be returning your granddaughter until the hatchlings have fully matured.”

“But that’s not going to be for nine months!” I shout.  “The deal was that I provide them with Dragons and they give me my granddaughter back.  They will get their Dragons when they come for the eggs.”

“You broke that agreement when you told your man Larrath.” he quips.  “Besides, they will only be getting hatchlings, not Dragons.  You want to see your granddaughter sooner, speed up their development!” is the little man’s snide reply.

Sickened by the presence of this walking ass-kisser, I storm out of the room, out of the building and into the park across the street, trying in vain to think of some other way out of this mess.

The nine month wait never happens.  The men announced the brilliant work of their scientist yesterday, six months ahead of schedule.  I knew that they wouldn’t follow my instructions in the care and rearing of the hatchlings, but I had planned for that.  Whatever they had done had increased the Dragon’s growth rate substantially.  Bad things were going to come of the changes they had made.  I wait for their call to say I can have my granddaughter back, but the call will probably never come.  I am still hopeful, but I have a sinking feeling that I will never see her again.  That sinking feeling extends to the fact that they will probably try to be rid of me as well now that they have what they want.

It is a feeling that has been building ever since I got caught up in this mess, and so, going against the brain that has never failed me, I have followed my instincts and prepared somewhere safe in the event the worst were to come to pass.

I walk to the back door of the workshop, deciding to gather the last of my things and disappear, but something isn’t right.  Cautious of my instincts, I slip inside the darkened room, consciously aware that Larrath should still have been working at this early hour.  I quickly search the workshop, convinced that something has happened yet hoping that I will find everything as normal, and find to my dismay, Larrath curled up in a pool of blood.

“Gar” he croaks, as I lean down, “I’m sorry, they got the Dragon’s genetic code, jumped me after I had logged in.”

“It’s ok, Lar.  It won’t do them any good because I left something out.” I lie, then Larrath smiles and dies, happy that he has not failed me.

I gather a few things, download some information, and leave.  Moments later, the lab explodes into a mass of glass shards and metal strips, driven by a chemically enhanced fire, but I am gone.

In the hills to the north, hidden in a narrow defile, I enter the great gates of my castle.  Disguised to match the rock around it, the castle is all sharp edges and small windows.  A solar collector, an incubation chamber, and a computer with my research on it, is all the technology I have managed to transport to this remote location without anyone knowing.  What I do have is a couple of gardens with fresh fruit and vegetables, a few years worth of supplies, and some livestock for fresh meat in a hidden valley a mile behind the keep.

As I set up my makeshift lab, I remember the lie I told my friend before he died, and force myself to add it to my growing list of regrets.  I finish setting up the equipment and sit down, starting the programme that holds the Dragon code, and setting the controls to create new eggs.

The day the new clutch of eggs hatch, is the day the Dragon’s begin attacking the cities en masse.  I listen to the broadcasts that give a blow by blow account of the devastation.  As cities fall, their generators fail, and the power they harnessed from the planet's core begins to force its way into the world.  The leader of the Dragons, one who has named himself Simian, reportedly has a talent for finding technology.  He was given a great scar in his first attack on the city of The Cloudy Plain, but the scar has not slowed him, only made him more cautious.

As the attacks stretch out over the months, and then the years, the reports become more sporadic, but they do show Simian growing in size.  As he grows in size and power, his scales turn black, and while he takes other wounds, none are fatal.  There is even footage of a wound leaking his acidic blood onto a building, and the steel melting.

Systematically, he leads the Dragons around the world, destroying all sources of the technology that enslaved them, forcing us closer and closer to extinction.

I watch as my children grow; listen as the cities of the world fall, and wonder how the first brood has become so corrupt, so evil, when the creatures before me are so good.  The evil Dragons have all become colours that represent their dispositions; black and brown, and a sickly dark-green; the colours of corruption and death.

On the day that the Dragons return to their place of birth; my home city; I release my new clutch.  I have given them as much knowledge as I can, but there is much that they will have to work out for themselves to make a difference.  The gold queen, the bronze, silver... green... blue... white... red...  As each leaves, I wonder if I will ever see them again.  I wonder once more if I will ever see my granddaughter; or anyone for that matter, again.

I take up my spyglass and look toward the ruins of my home city.  Movement can sometimes be seen only to be snuffed out as soon as the watching Dragon sees it.  The beast is Simian, the now self proclaimed Dragon King.  When he had led the attack, the people had fled, but as I watched, the Dragons systematically destroyed the city first before even looking for the people.

I have saved the community of miners who had been working the quarries to the east, miners who have insisted that I have an escape route through the mountains, but none of the city dwellers have come this way.

My spyglass swings across a charred empty wheelchair, the charred emaciated body of its former occupant less than a meter away, then on past a child to...

I swing the spyglass back to the child then up to the cliff where the Dragon sleeps with one eye open.  It has seen her and slowly stretches its wings.  I swing the spyglass back to the child, watching her freeze as Simian launches himself into the smoke-smeared sky.  Then she is running across a courtyard toward a big metal door with the words “Warning:  Do Not Enter” above it; the warning pointless now that none of the machinery within works.  Terrified for the girl, I watch as she runs up to the door, but she is so small and the door so big.  Pulling and pulling, her little muscles straining, she struggles through, then struggles to pull the big door closed.  Then again, it doesn’t matter if it will close or not, Simian will tear the building apart to see her dead.

I collapse into my big chair, unwilling to watch the scene any more.  I am the one to blame for the deaths of millions of people all over the world, and I will be the cause of thousands more, but there is nothing more I can do.  I have created a nemesis for the corrupted, and can now only hope that the righteous will triumph.