I touch down on the surface of Jade’s forest world atop a high mountain and marvel at the immense canopy of trees sprawled out below. Flying, scaly birds—perhaps they share some blood with us dragons—swoop over the sea of green in sprawling patterns. Hunting or migrating or maybe just sightseeing like me. In the distance a vast blue ocean spans into the horizon.
It’s the first planet in a white dwarf system just at the rim of the galaxy. But Jade wanted ease of access, not something that might persist. I’m impressed, honestly. In just one sweep, this place has transformed from a bleak ocean world into a thriving world with a diverse population and ecosystem. The air here is a bit acrid, the tang of salt too thick, but the creatures adapt. This is the way of the universe: adapt or die.
Jade tells us what was here before, shows us some drawings she scribbled, then Drake Rov gives us leave to wander and find what we can. Something interesting or new. It gives Jade time to denote anything and everything that’s changed since her first trip here. And if what the hatchlings said is true, half of her findings will come from the rest of us, so we’re diligent about our searching because we want the same diligence on our own projects.
I pull out some parchment and coal from my bag when I spot interesting flora and fauna. The plan is to spend a year or two of the planet’s time on each. It can feel long sometimes but our normal school session would last about forty or fifty years on a planet like this so we will only need to sleep after we’ve gone to a few other, similar planets.
Drake Rov and Drakera Hyver are clear in their instruction: if we ever believe ourselves to be in any danger we are to make our way into the sky and roar as long and as loud as our lungs allow. They will be patrolling the skies from a low orbit to see and hear as much as they can. And truthfully, the only thing big enough on a planet like this to be of any danger at all to us is the planet itself. Just in case, though, I travel with Xy. My roar isn’t what it used to be and while my bite and my claw are still deadly, I no longer have the ability to breathe fire.
I missed it for a time after my ‘accident.’ I think it was mostly just because I didn’t have something the other dragons all did. But over time I started to think that maybe it was a good thing that I wasn’t just like everyone else.
Xy and I enjoy our time on Jade’s forest world. It’s nice to feel the crunch of bark beneath my nails and lick the sticky sweet sap some of the trees produce. I enjoy the variety—broad leaves and thick trunks or tall with nettles or sprawling root systems to soak up the excess water from the land. Other than the trees, the largest creatures we come across are the birds. Some that are perhaps a tenth of our size—if I’m being generous—with long beaks, and claws on their wide leathery wings. They dive into the oceans and most of the time resurface with empty claws and beaks. But once in a while they will catch a fish or a reptile of some sort and share the feast. It’s a surprisingly communal species. And one that I feel may have an intelligence beyond my understanding. They seem to communicate with squawks and chirps and shrieks. The shrieks are mostly when they see us. Some primal warning to their fellows that something bigger and more dangerous is near. So Xy and I mostly stick to the mountains and watch from a distance.
When we first arrived at the planet, Drake Rov and Drakera Hyver took the time to help us all learn to use our telescoping vision. We dragons have muscles in our eyes that allow us to use our third eyelid as a way to narrow our field of vision, giving us the ability to see with more clarity at great distances. Though we lose our peripheral vision, it is powerful enough to allow us to see the surface of most planets from outside their atmosphere. Our eyes also have the ability to see colors at an incredible range. While this might not seem all that useful, it’s important to note—their condescending tone did not escape me—that we should be able to tell before we enter if an atmosphere is hostile to our lungs.
From great ranges, the elements give off different color signatures to our eyes. Oxygen, which is our most breathable element, appears as a cool, white-blue. Nitrogen is more of a yellow-grey, whereas sulfur is pure yellow. One is necessary, the other can be harmful if the concentration is too great. We spent a fair amount of time on these lessons, though with my vision impaired as it is, I don’t know how useful they will be.
With the damage to my third eyelid and my eyes in general, I will never see what the other students do. Yet another reason I need Xy with me. My third eyelid is only useful at making things dark, just like my first and second—though is there even a second eyelid? And my vision is no longer keen enough to see the entire spectrum of colors available to the others. I can still see at great distances but not with their clarity. Thankfully, at least my nose is still fully functioning. I have had to learn to trust it more and more since my accident. But contrary to the stories, losing one sense doesn’t make all the others that much better. Xy can still smell what I can, and he sees far better.
It’s good practice, though, camping out on a wild planet for a while. It gives me the chance to see just how much the accident has impaired me. If the planet had been hostile, I likely would have died. I don’t fly as fast as Xy. I never did, but it’s noticeable now. I’ve missed a few things, blurry shapes spreading across the skies in the distance. Had they been dragons, they could easily have ambushed me. My injured wing makes it more difficult to take off and land repeatedly. It gets sore easily; my rests are extended. And as the planet’s years pass by, my whole body begins to ache with the effort. I’m afraid I rebuilt myself for a calm, quiet life. Not the life of a hunter or an explorer, but that of a philosopher or teacher. Honestly, that suited me just fine.
When the time comes to depart, I’m saddened. Though our stay was short, I felt a strong affinity towards the wildlife. Xy and I had names for many of the creatures. Not only the species, but individuals from the nests near where we stayed. The birds, much like we dragons, are matriarchal. I will miss spending time watching Hyoleia caring for her brood, gathering them all together for bed as the star descends on the horizon, leaving the world bruised with darkness.
The star rising and setting is a phenomenon I will love my entire life, no matter how many times I see it. Perhaps it’s because as a floating cluster of asteroids gliding through the dark emptiness of the universe we never really experience the rising and setting of light. Our sources of light are almost magical in nature, running on various combinations of gases that constantly interact with one another, creating infinite sources of light, should we so desire. They dot the asteroids, both inside and out, sometimes making it difficult to find darkness, even in the vastness of space. But here, on this planet, after the star hides behind the horizon, I can stare up at the sky and marvel at the distant, twinkling stars.
I spend much of my time scanning those night skies for my constellation. The belt where I’ve hidden my own little world, but it’s too far away to be discernible. The three stars meld into one from this distance and I am nowhere near good enough at reading the patterns in the sky to find it.
The next world we visit is short-lived. All life on the planet has been wiped out by an asteroid impact. Bad news for Ugo’s hunting world. We spend a few years on the gas giant anyway, finding remnants of the large, hexapedal reptiles he imported onto the surface of this nitrogen-rich world. But the scar from the asteroid is much bigger indeed. The dust of the impact is only now beginning to settle, which likely means it hit about a quarter sweep ago. Maybe less.
I feel bad for Ugo, who is devastated by the loss. But at the same time, I’m glad I won’t be the only one whose planet is lifeless. Selfish, I know.
The next few planets we visit are another forest world and a rocky wasteland that Pivi tries to explain she is using as a mine. I’m not sure Drake Rov nor Drakera Hyver are buying it. I’ve a feeling Pivi and her mother will be complaining to Drakera Tilak about her marks at the end of this level of school. But that’s always the case with Pivi. I would hate to feel so entitled that I am better than everyone else, simply because my ancestor was one of the founders of our cluster all those sweeps ago. But we’ve all learned to live with Pivi and her antics. Annoyed, Drake Rov has us leave only one planet year after our arrival. I think if anything or anyone is going to scare Pivi straight, it might be Drake Rov. I’m not so sure anything would work on her mother.
On the fifth planet—another forest world—I need a nap. Before my accident, if I needed a nap it usually took me a fair bit of time to get settled and find sweet succor in the embrace of sleep. These days when I need a nap, if I don’t find a place to sleep quickly I might just fall asleep mid-flight. Xy understands. Well, he says he does, but I’m not sure he truly understands.
My body is still healing. Still mending itself together from the inside out. That takes more energy than I have to spare. I honestly can’t remember the last time I could make it through a whole cycle without a nap.
We find a nice, secluded cave that is inhabited by slugs and other small, bioluminescent creatures. Xy clears a space for me and I sleep like the dead. When he wakes me it’s time to leave the planet and I can hardly tell the difference between up and down. I’m covered in slugs and slime and worse and Xy finds it amusing.
“Well it isn’t exactly as if I could sweep them all off of you as you slept. I would have wakened you.”
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He says it between little chuckles and starts and stops. I’ve a feeling he got a few nice, firm images in his mind that he’ll retell in his next story. By the dark and by the light…
Before we depart, I gather up the courage—it takes a significant amount—to dive into the nearest body of water where I can fully submerge myself so I can rinse off the grime covering my body. When we finally break through the atmosphere to rejoin everyone else, they’re laughing at me and pointing. I quickly scan myself and find that much of my body is glowing. Apparently, the slime didn’t wash off. Streaks of blue-white light glow along my scales in mostly straight, criss-crossing lines. I reach out a claw and shove Xy, who has not yet stopped laughing.
“Alright everyone. Two more planets and then we will stop to rest on the third. The next is a hunting world, which I had Drakera Hyver scout while we were here so she’s already up ahead. She has relayed to me that this planet could potentially be dangerous. Large creatures about half our size have—”
Gisk, whose planet was next, interrupted Drake Rov with a hoot and a celebratory pump of his claw, spinning in the void of space. It is quite impressive, really. Since most of our time is spent in places with no atmosphere, we’re taught at a very young age how to use our telekenesis to force resistance against our wings so we can propel ourselves forward through areas with low gravity. Most dragons can manage just that, but a few are adept enough to spin or fly backwards or do other tricks. I’m one of the ones who can barely manage forward, so I’m a bit jealous of Gisk as he twirls and dances.
Drake Rov is unimpressed.
“Are you quite finished?”
“Oh. Um. Yes, Drake Rov. Sorry, Drake Rov.”
“As I was saying…” Drake Rov continues. “If you would prefer to stay safe, there is a nearby moon we can use as an outpost. Upon arrival, I will ask volunteers to help me set up a shelter and seal it so we can bring in some air to breathe. The years at this planet are a bit longer than the first few we’ve visited, so it might be an extended stay.”
No one else says anything and we depart. I’m not quite sure what I expect when we reach the planet—the sixth in the system, and a tiny thing at that—but it isn’t a frozen world. Some of the creatures on the surface are big enough that even I can spot them from geosynchronous orbit. But they don’t look dangerous. With large, round heads bobbing on long necks they look more like a failed science experiment than a danger.
“Right,” Drake Rov says. “Whoever is sitting this planet out, come with me. Otherwise, go in groups of two or three and stay vigilant. The lumbering beasts aren’t the only ones on the surface. There are others that are smaller but much more dangerous.”
He shoots off in the direction of the planet’s only moon, another wasteland, and nearly half the class follows him. Gisk takes his best friend and rushes down to the surface, pleased as pebbles. Xy and I are about to head down as well when Jade comes up to us.
“Can I join you two?” she asks.
“Of course,” Xy says before I can come up with pithy repartee. He knew it was coming, though, and he gives me a look that tells me he knew. To me alone he says, “Play nice.”
I give him a look that says, I am the pinnacle of nice. We both know it’s a lie.
Jade and I have history, sure. But her biggest problem is that Xy chooses to spend his time with me instead of her. And she’s angry with me about it. Not him.
To Jade, I smile sweetly. Then I descend.
Within seconds of landing, we are greeted with thousands of shrieks as the wildlife nearby flees in panic. The ground trembles with their hoofed and clawed feet stomping away. The air thumps with the wings of birds and other flying creatures in mass exodus. The animals on this planet know what a predator is and how to act. A perfect hunting world for those who love the chase.
I try to recall all the variety of creatures we saw but in the haste and the hubbub I fail to pull up a mental image of any of them. If we want to observe the prey, we will need to be far more cautious and stealthy. But honestly, we are interested in the predators, aren’t we?
As we fly around we are greeted with the same screeches, the same creatures fleeing in our wake, darting from rocky outcropping to sparse patches of forest to anyplace where they might hide from our view. It’s lucky for them that we are only to observe. We were given strict instructions not to hunt. I’m not sure Gisk will listen—he and his older brother and mother would go hunting any chance they got. I wonder briefly if Gisk will join his older brother in exile when he graduates. Their mother might even decide to do the same.
Whatever predators lord over this planet are crafty. It’s natural for predators to be stealthy. It makes hunting easier and it protects them from anything bigger that might also be hunting nearby. We dragons have never relied on stealth. We’re too big anyplace we go. But then, the only other creatures that might hunt us are dragons themselves.
It takes us a few days to find the first alpha predator. A massive, hulking reptile with two tails and jaws that could likely break some of my bones if I got close enough. We watch from an extreme distance as this one drags one of the immense herbivores we saw from orbit toward the sea. We’ve seen the big herbivores all over the place and even they flee from us in their own way. But it makes sense that we were unable to spot the predators until now if they are coming up from the sea.
All of a sudden, Jade shrieks in pain. I whip my head around and see dozens of bat-like creatures swarming her, biting and tearing at her wings. She panics and breathes fire over her own scales to try to free herself but they’re quick, using prehensile tails and crafty claw-like hands to scrabble off to safety. Then a dozen more of them dive at me.
They’re smart creatures, attacking as a pack, but they weren’t smart enough to realize that I am the weak link in our trio. Xy unleashes a devastating gout of flame onto the diving group and they scatter. I finally leap into action, grasping one of Jade’s assailants in my teeth and tearing it to shreds and stomping on another with my claw, feeling the creature’s bones shatter under the force. But two out of twenty isn’t providing much help to Jade, who is swarmed by the critters.
From above I feel the heat before the flame as a wide cone of air erupts in fire. Those creatures who can flee do. The less fortunate ones shriek and wail as the flames devour them. Drake Rov descends, scooping the creatures off of Jade’s scales four or five at a time and flinging them into oblivion as if they were weightless. It’s over in seconds and I’m left shaking and breathless.
“Jade, are you alright?” Xy asks as Drake Rov follows the creatures off to ensure they won’t try again.
“I—I think so,” she says.
Wounds score her flanks and hind legs, but none appear too serious. Deep and long but not life-threatening. The damage to her wings, though, is significant. A few of the tears sweep clean through the leathery webbing between the bones, leaving bloody tissue and viscera dripping down her sides. She may need some help getting off the surface if the tears caused enough damage.
Drake Rov returns a bit out of breath but no worse for wear. In all my sweeps I’ve never seen such a beautiful plume of flame. A streak of brilliant light and immense heat that tore through the ground, causing the sand to crystallize into glass and the rocks to melt into slag. And the creatures… there is no more screaming.
“Trouble has a way of finding you, Siluastryx, doesn’t it?” Drake Rov says, eyeing my side.
In all the commotion I hadn’t even realized that I, too, had been attacked. I crane my neck around to examine my own wounds, which looked worse than they felt. A few tooth marks and some scrapes on my own wings and on my side.
“Drake Rov, I’m sorry,” Xy says, bowing his head. “I was careless and these two got hurt.”
Xy, too, had a few injuries to report, but he would do no such thing under the circumstances.
Drake Rov reaches over to lift Xy’s head. “Don’t worry yourselves. These creatures are crafty and intelligent. I didn’t realize what we were dealing with here and decided to call for a retreat from the world. Everyone else has left the surface save Gisk’s group. Drakera Hyver is going to collect them now. Jadesnithyll, can you fly?”
“I think so,” Jade says.
“Good. You three go on and I’ll watch your back. The creatures are good flyers and they know you’re wounded. I just want to make sure they don’t try anything else.”
We all do as commanded. As expected, Jade is in significant pain as she takes off, but she is able to fly under her own power. We are lucky Drake Rov was there to help us. I’m not sure we hatchlings would have fared so well without his timely assistance.
Once we reach orbit, Jade takes stock of her injuries. There is a moment of shock when she realized just how badly she’s been injured. And that it would mean scars. Scars in our culture meant experiences. Irreplaceable. She now has a story to tell, and one that others would listen to. A flutter of excitement shivers through her and she smiles. A great big toothy grin.
When Drake Rov joins us we wait a few beats for his instruction. He looks around, scanning the planet’s hemisphere that we could see. When he doesn’t spot Drakera Hyver, he says, “Stay here. All of you.” Then he bolts off in the opposite direction the planet is spinning to hopefully shorten his trip.
Hardly two seconds after he leaves, we all hear Drakera Hyver’s distress call. A sharp, piercing pain erupts in my skull and Xy shoots off in Drake Rov’s wake. Jade and I follow. A distress call overrides any orders Drake Rov gave.
Even injured, Jade is still faster than me and I end up quite far behind. Drake Rov dives into the atmosphere off in the distance, flames licking at his wings and flanks from the friction. By the dark and by the light is he fast. Xy dives a few minutes later, Jade after that. I stay in geosynchronous orbit, using my telepathy to try to reach out to the others who are resting on the moon. I’m not sure if they heard Drakera Hyver’s distress. And someone needs to remain above, just in case. It isn’t as though I’d be much help below anyway.
I see Drake Rov at the edge of my vision breathing wave after wave of flame. The forest beneath me is engulfed in fire. Xy and Jade are too small yet and my vision isn’t good enough to parse through the smoke and flame. But I see the biggest of our kind, a king in any world he visits. His wingspan is easily four times my own. His black scales blot out the fire behind him and he breathes once more. I could almost swear I hear the screams of the dying creatures under the force and heat of his flames.
From the wreckage, Drakera Hyver shoots out of a plume of smoke and rises, but even at a distance I can tell she’s injured. Badly. I dive to assist. She’s carrying someone, but I can’t tell who it is. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of those flying bat creatures are harrying her, swiping at her wings and her tail. I barrel into the creatures, claws and fangs out, wings angled to use as weapons. I tear through a score of the bats on my first pass, but now they’re swiping at me. This time I feel as their sharp teeth penetrate my stormcoat and my scales, as they crawl all over me trying to drag me down, ripping at my flesh and my wings.
A wave of flame passes over me. It hurts, but no worse than the creatures attacking me and now most of them are gone, freeing me up to move once more. I thank Drakera Hyver and halt my dive, turning back up to follow her into orbit. After a certain elevation, the bats either lose their will or their consciousness and they all plummet back toward the surface of the planet, where another, much worse battle rages on.
When I catch up to Drakera Hyver in orbit, I see she isn’t carrying Gisk. She’s carrying his corpse.
