Wrath of the Red Star -- Thread Appears!

"Unusual" weather and geological activity was...actually relatively usual on Teragaia, if one was to be honest. The rumble of an earthquake that forced pancakes to sprout from the earth, a volcano that erupted and flung odious clouds of glitter across the land, a monsoon that rained forks down upon the beleaguered population...

Well, nobody was exactly surprised.

Teragaia was under the influence of the Illogical Field. If the Illogical Field was throwing more crazy into the climate than usual lately, well, who was to say that wasn't just more situation normal?

Nobody thought to take it seriously. Why should they?

Not until the day Champion A'lan, the closest thing Haven Weyr had to a Weyrleader, and Weyrwoman Sandasa walked together along the fire heights at dawn this one particular morning, coming to rest beside the Star Stones that A'lan's brethren, his fellow First Settlers, had installed more out of habit than any real need. Back on Pern, the Star Stones had been necessary to survival.

Pern orbited the star Rukbat, and shared this sun with an eccentric planet erroneously named the Red Star. By A'lan's time the Pernese had been re-instructed that it was a planet and not a star, but the name had always stuck regardless. But the ancients had needed a way of predicting when the Red Star would begin its deadly Pass, dragging and dropping its lethal load of Thread -- a loathsome organism with a terrible hunger for all organic lifeforms -- onto Pern for the next fifty Turns (years, A'lan reminded himself, the non-Pernese called them years). Calculations had been made. A'lan wasn't sure entirely the purpose of the Finger Rock or the others, but he did know that the Eye Rock, the one with the hole bored through it, was supposed to perfectly bracket the Red Star at dawn on the winter solstice, and that was the moment the Interval would end, and the Pass would then begin.

Ostensibly Teragaia didn't need Star Stones. Theoretically. Hypothetically. Presumably. You'd think.

But this day, A'lan choked, a horrified sound he gagged upon, which caught Sandasa's attention immediately.

"A'lan? What's wrong?"

His mind was too struck by panic, too drenched in a sudden terror colder than between, for her to discern telepathically what, precisely, had rendered the fearless Champion of Aeon so afraid. A'lan rested his chin where he was supposed to to get a clearer look straight through the Eye Rock.

Glaring balefully back at him was the unmistakable malevolence of the Red Star.

A'lan stepped away and roughly pulled Sandasa to the Eye Rock by her flight jacket, all but pushing her head to the chinrest to force her to look. Normally Sandasa didn't allow well being manhandled, but in A'lan's fright, she played along. And what she saw puzzled and worried her.

"...is that?"

"The Red Star. The scourge of Pern."

"I would ask what it's doing here, but I know better than that." Sandasa sighed, drawing away from the Eye Rock. "You're a Flightleader, A'lan. Now it's time for that title to mean something. We'll see how well Jahena's training has prepared the weyrlings for this. I'll organize the Queens' Wing, and...shards, I'll have to contact the other Weyrs, too. Exaltis, Aphadon, Aerion, they'll have to fly Thread themselves. Gods only hope they're ready for this."

Nobody was ready, Sandasa knew, but she couldn't let that slip. The Champion was already too shaken. The people needed their Weyrwoman to be steady, their rock, their anchor. More than that, the dragons needed their Weyrwoman to be their anchor, so Sandasa pushed back any sense of her own fear, locked a lid on it, and turned on her heels to head back to her weyr to start making preparations, leaving the thunderstruck A'lan alone to gape at his ancient nemesis.

She had too many things to do and not enough time to give anxiety even a few seconds to itself.



Shortly after dawn, the drums rolled. It was not Tomlin at the drum tower, but Masterharper Cerilene herself, as no mistakes could be afforded.

RED STAR SIGHTED! THREAD FALLS ON TERAGAIA! REPORT TO STATIONS IMMEDIATELY! REPORT TO WEYR OR STAY INDOORS!



Once everyone was gathered in the Weyr Bowl, A'lan spoke up, "Most of you won't be familiar with the Red Star," he admitted into the microphone set up for large speaking occasions, ceremonies, usually celebratory. It rarely saw emergency use. "But the first Pernese settlers, the group I came with, dealt with this menace for T-years. Our ancestors dealt with it for centuries. When the Red Star can be seen through the hole in the Eye Rock of the Star Stones, the Pass begins, and so does Thread. It looks silvery, nearly harmless, as it falls, but I assure you, harmless it is not. It devours anything and everything in its path. Everything organic. Thread was the reason for our dragons in the first place. Pern needed an aerial defense force when the machines of the ancients died and could no longer be repaired, something that could flame Thread from the sky and keep it from touching the ground and devouring everything and everyone. Ydreth and I have flown Thread in the past. Getting scored hurts like nothing else in the world, but that is the risk we take when we step on the Hatching Sands." If Champion A'lan's voice sounded reedy and shaky, spooked by the reappearance of his long-forgotten foe, no one was rude enough to criticize aloud.

"Okay, brats, LISTEN UP," Jahena roared, facing every weyrling and most of the senior riders of Haven Weyr. Unlike the quieter Champion, she required no microphone. Jahena could boom across the entire Bowl with her voice alone. "We've got ourselves a genuine emergency and it's going to come falling out of the sky right soon. We don't know on what half of the continent it'll fall first, whether it'll be Aphadon's problem or ours, but this is what Weyrs were first established for and damn it all, it's a duty we'll keep to or die trying. Some of you riders may not have the dragons for this. Thread can't be killed by color spray or sleep gas. I suggest you either take up a flamethrower with the Queens' Wing or you find another way to be useful."

"I will be here for the inevitable wounded," declared the familiar and unpleasant Melonwei. "Tualarth is not a Thread-killer and you will need a surgeon before this is through."

"That is exactly what I mean," Jahena continued. "That is another way to be useful. Those of you among the weyrfolk who have not Impressed at all yet, we need ground crews! If any of this shit escapes the dragons and burrows, we're fucked. You'll need flamethrowers and you'll need to be on it fast. I'll also need you getting civilians out of the open and under cover. Specifically cover that isn't organic! Thread eats wood, flesh, grass, bone. Even rich dirt. Plastic and metal will be their saviors, and yours. Wear your damn hardhats, provided with the flamethrowers, or I'm not responsible for your deaths, do you hear me?"

Sandasa would have liked to censor Jahena's language, but Thread... Thread called for some cussing. From Jahena, anyway. She could get away with it when Sandasa herself could not.

It was time the Weyrwoman herself spoke up. She stopped leaning against the wall of the Weyr Bowl and strode to the front of the crowd, taking her place at the podium. The air was thick and jittery, heady with anticipation and more than a little anxiety.

"We are facing a truly unprecedented emergency for the first time in the history of Teragaia," she began, knowing that this was not likely to be comforting. "But if the Pernese settlers could do it before engineering their dragons, and then starting with only seven flaming dragons and ten queens to begin -- and their bronzes needing firestone at that -- then we, with a full Weyr and so many mottles with no such need should be at a much greater advantage. Jahena has taught every single one of you how to fly in formation, how to combat an enemy, how to most efficiently loose your dragon's greatest weapon. Remember that now. Take that knowledge to your fight in the sky. And remember that I am with you always, only a thought away if you need my help." She stepped away, satisfied that at least a few of her riders had taken some comfort from her words.

You could never please them all, but just to rally enough had been her goal. Sandasa was a realist.

"Just remember to keep the acid-breathers low on sweep!" someone shouted from the back. "Don't want that dripping on the ground crews!"

"Fair point!" Jahena called back, grinning fiercely. "Acid-breathing mottle riders, you heard the wise-ass! Sweep wings, low flight. You're on burrow duty. Because no, we don't want acid raining down on everyone else, that is a valid tactical point. For that matter! Gas-breathers, you're also on low-sweep. Other dragons flying through that fog will be in as much danger as from Thread itself." The Weyrlingmaster paused, visibly calculating and doing a head count of which authority figure was where. "OKAY! Standard fighting wings, report to A'lan! If your dragons need firestone, get your sacks ready now but don't get your dragons chewing yet. Sweepriders, that's J'miah over there," she pointed at a tall, stringy man in battered flight gear, with the knots on his shoulder signifying him as a wingsecond and the rider of a black mottle, "you report to him. Queens' Wing, or anyone participating in the Queens' Wing, see Weyrwoman Sandasa! All you non-riders also have jobs! Healers, to Larandaithiel, I know you love to hate him, but now is not the time! If you're going to go looking for potential casualties, make sure your name is on a checklist so we know to go looking if you don't come back. Ground crew, to me! I've got your hardhats and flamethrowers. Everyone ready? Let's get moving!"

Sandasa groaned. Jahena looked her way, questioning. The Weyrwoman shook her head and stepped back up to the microphone.

"News update from Exaltis Weyr. Chenzirath informs me that they meet Thread, and the leading edge is about to hit our territory, so disregard what Jahena said about not chewing firestone. Get your dragons chewing now."

---

Welcome to Pern's worst enemy comes looking for a fight on Teragaia! First round, gather 'round, check in, listen to what everyone has to stay, find your station.

EFFECTIVELY

If you're a dragonrider whose dragon breathes fire, frost, or lightning, see Champion A'lan for further instruction.
If you're a dragonrider whose dragon breathes acid or chlorine gas, see J'miah for further instruction.

If you're a dragonrider whose dragon breathes anything totally ineffectual against Thread (Sunray, color spray, sleep gas, whatever), talk to Sandasa for further instruction. OR see below, your call.

If you're not a dragonrider at all, but you are:

1. A Healer, see Larandaithiel.
2. Ground Crew hopeful, see Jahena.
3. Good At Search And Rescue, kinda just make sure someone knows who you are, that you exist, and then you can do your thing, but someone knows to go looking if they can't find you later.

EDIT: Because I forgot this earlier!  The Weyr fosters mottle dragons who hatched and never found their riders, so if your non-dragonrider character wants to hop on a spare mottle that gives them an assumed name (like Bob, which you know isn't a dragon name, because they'll only give that one up to their actual rider), that is also totally possible.

EDIT 2: Owl, due to previous RP, Jessera has full rights to Shrayla's Tiombeth.

EDIT 3: Not all of my posts will be updates to this adventure, as I have characters that will actually be participating in it as well.  Another thing I forgot to mention. ^^;

EDIT 4: I'm not actually limiting shiny involvement here.  Who and whatever you think will help, go for it.

EDIT 5: Also, the post limit between updates is 5, not 1.  If y'all need to interact with each other to get something done, DO THE THING.