Chapter 27
10 years Post apocalypse
The Dragon Rider
Present
Ian was battered and sore, broken bones slowly healing. It was dark in the dumpster and smelled like mold and rotten fish. He cursed himself again for being so stupid. How could he have flown them into such an obvious trap?
You're strong enough psychics that you must have known Greta, and I came in peace, Ian mind spoke. How could you do this?
Ian could feel the hum and chatter of the group mind Bridget shared with the other psychic humans in Paradise Valley Refuge. He got a visual image of his dragon companion Greta, wounded, crashing behind a distant hill, with hundreds of heavily armed men in trucks going after her.
What was worse than Greta casting him into the garbage was that their psychic connection was gone. Their partnership was over. If through some miracle they survived, she'd certainly kill him the next time they met. Dragons are not known for their gentle, forgiving natures.
You're an alien sympathizer, Ian. A traitor to your species. Riding a dragon. Really? I wanted to reeducate you and bring you into our group mind, but I was overruled. Others feel you're too strong and would cause problems.
It's called thinking outside the box, you insane idiots! Ian responded. Do you have any idea how many aliens Greta has killed for me?
You love that filthy alien. We are psychics you know. It's sad that we have to explain to you why this is bad. I was hoping your dragon would die next to our refuge, we'd have a nice dragon tree, Bridget mind-chattered away. Our dragon trees haven't given us any fruit and I'm hoping Greta's tree will be different. I wonder how many credits and stat points our psychic collective will get for killing her? I bet it's a lot.
Most dragon trees Ian knew of were created from killing baby dragons. Adult dragons were rarer and much harder to kill. Ian suspected baby dragon trees needed time to mature, but he neither knew nor cared if killing Greta would produce a dragon tree with fruit.
Ian felt ashamed. He had responsibilities back home, order he maintained, people he protected. He'd given that up for drug addiction and a dragon flight that had accomplished nothing more than getting him and his dragon killed.
We feel the life leaving your dragon, Bridget mind-spoke. Our men have orders to search the area for a dragon tree. I bet their fruit tastes amazing.
Sorry, Greta, Ian thought. You deserved better.
It stank in the dumpster. Ian slowly forced himself to sit up. He felt around. The dumpster was big, dark, and heavy. He had no idea how to get out. His Kityskin armor came with night vision, but it required some light to work, and inside the dumpster there was none. He produced a light from his inventory and looked around. The dumpster was every bit as dirty and gross as he'd expected. As close as he could tell, the dumpster was upside down and he was sitting on its lid. How the hell did that happen?
He lay back down with a groan and reached out with his mind. There were no useful aliens within range. Without a suitable alien to control, he didn't have a chance in hell of escaping this place alive even if he could get out of this dumpster. It was times like these when he realized how limited he was. A bunch of stat points put into strength and speed would really come in handy right now.
The truth was, he'd always been afraid to put stat points into anything but his gift. Psychic dueling and mind-controlling aliens were the only things he was good at. Any stat point he didn't put into his gift was a chance he'd lose a mental duel his life depended on.
Surrender, and you have my word you will be treated decently, she said. I'll send men with a syringe containing a powerful tranquilizer for you to inject yourself with. They will then lock you in chains and bring you in. Don't try pretending to inject yourself and faking unconsciousness, Ian. We will know.
Their group mind felt like rancid butter mixed with a sweet cough syrup. He couldn't believe he'd actually liked them. Sure, Ian responded. I surrender.
***
7 Years Post Alien Apocalypse
Female dragons are much more aggressive than the males, but as usual BG, the AI unit that trapped them in this game hell world, hadn't given them the full story. Female dragons were fiercely territorial and quick to attack any threat, alien or human. Unlike male dragons, however, they seldom ventured beyond their territories, and they didn't hunt or kill for sport.
This knowledge, gained from BG and years of alien observation, gave Ian the idea for taming one.
“Rrrrowr,” Buddy grumbled. Buddy hated Ian's plan.
“You will always be my best friend, Buddy,” Ian said, “but you can't fly.”
Ian found himself levitated ten feet off the ground. “Unless you can levitate yourself at the same time and travel hundreds of miles that way, I'm afraid that's not going to work. Also, this dragon is much much stronger than we are.”
“Rrwrrwrr,” Buddy grumbled, putting Ian down.
“I know,” Ian said, rubbing Buddy's nose, now at shoulder height. “You'd better get out of here, and don't come back until she leaves. Female dragons hate Kitykity. Apparently, you eat their eggs and hatchlings.”
Buddy reluctantly left, leaving Ian alone with a cow carcass. Ian spread out his bright yellow tie-dyed sheet, holding it down with rocks on each corner. Dragons were attracted to bright colors.
The gray dumdum (dragon) soon spotted him on the edge of her territory. He felt her approach, circling him high in the air. This was his chance. He reached out and made mental contact. I come in peace, with a gift. I'm no threat. Ian visualized the dead cow. The dragon's mind matched her color, a steel cold gray, devoid of emotion. She scanned his mind in return, searching for any hidden danger. Her mind was stronger than anything he'd encountered.
The female dragon slowly circled downward, alert for any threat. She stayed visible, her skin kept its dull gray color that blended into its surroundings. This was a good sign. Unlike their male counterparts, who were proud of their bright colorful scales, female dragons turned invisible when they felt threatened or were about to attack.
She landed behind him in total silence. An amazing feat for a being over one hundred feet long. He didn't move as he felt her breath on the back of his head and neck.
What he was doing was very smart, or very stupid. If the latter, his death would be quick.
Her head and neck passed over him. She dipped down and picked up the cow with her mouth. She tossed it in the air, levitating it with her mind, making the cow float for several seconds. Then she caught it again with her mouth and swallowed it. He saw her BG display. This is a young female dumdum. She is not your friend.
She let out a low snarl, and mind spoke, Leave, now. As she took off, her tail slammed into him hard enough to send him flying several feet. He landed painfully on the rocky ground. A deliberate warning. She could have just as easily killed him. Then she was gone, and Ian was still alive.
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In hindsight, trying to make friends with a being whose display stated plainly that she wasn't interested in friendship might not have been his brightest move. But he was running low on options. The aliens he could kill in the area weren't doing anything useful for him, and the few aliens he couldn't kill were so powerful going after them would be suicide. A level 9 alien companion could change that.
A few days later, Ian returned with another food offering. He met her fifty feet inside her territory.
Instead of taking his offering, she bit off his right arm.
What was shocking was that it was so unexpected. She was neither angry nor hungry, only curious. Ian lay on the ground, sharp rocks digging into his back, shivering from shock and cool mountain air, bleeding, looking up at the dragon and the clear blue sky behind her, wondering if this was how he'd die.
Her mind was the most alien of the alien minds he'd encountered, devoid of emotion, orderly. Everything was categorized as to the level of threat. The rabbits in a nearby burrow posed an insignificant threat and possible food source, to be ignored. Kitykity were a significant threat to be killed if they got too close. Ian saw himself through her four eyes, a frightened young man. Ian's threat level was ????? A question mark. Physically, Ian was insignificant, but his mind and actions were strange. Ian's mind was as alien to her as hers was to him.
She had questions killing Ian would not answer. Her orderly mind did not like unanswered questions. She opened her mouth, dropping his arm nearby.
Go away! Don't come back! She mind-spoke before flying away.
Ian crawled over to his right arm, weak from blood loss. He grabbed it and carefully reattached it to his shoulder, injecting himself with a healing booster combined with the Red Scourge stimulant his brother had made up for him. When he left hours later, he sensed the dragon circling above, watching him.
He came back a few days later, his still healing right arm itching like crazy where the arm met the shoulder.
This time she didn't land. She levitated the cow up into her mouth as she flew overhead.
Over the next two years, a mental connection formed between them. He began to sense her presence, regardless of the distance between them.
Hundreds of food offerings later, she allowed him inside her nest, where she lived, deep in the mountains under a large overhang. She didn't like him exactly, but she tolerated his presence. She even tolerated Buddy, as long as it didn't get too close.
Ian spent his first night in her nest, her on one side, Buddy on the other.
He would never have suspected that a creature as solitary as a female dragon could get lonely, but though he was still an unknown to her, his presence filled a void in her life. Dragons didn't have names, or even fully understand the concept of names, but Ian named her Greta. He wasn't sure why; the name felt right somehow.
The first time he made his request to fly around the country with him on her back, her answer was a loud resounding No! So he left. He came back a few days later with another food offering and made his request again. This time he received a loud growling roar, then eventually reluctant agreement. What motivated her to accept wasn't loneliness, it was curiosity. She'd never flown more than a few miles outside her territory. Ian had made her curious about what else was out there.
He purchased a specially made leather saddle and harness from the galactic market for his new companion. He strapped it on her where her shoulders met her neck, then used it to fasten himself firmly to her body so he wouldn't come off while she was flying. Once they were in the air, a message from BG popped up on his display.
You are riding your first dumdum. You have earned the title, Dumdum Rider! Your galactic following thinks this is an impressive achievement. I pointed out that if you can do it; it is obviously not that difficult.
It's Dragon Rider, you stupid AI, Ian thought.
At Ian's urging, Greta flew them to the Fortress, the closest thing he had to a home. This journey would have taken him days by motor vehicle or on the back of Buddy. With Greta, it was completed in hours. Buddy followed on foot and would join them at the fortress in another two days.
His armor protected his face and eyes from the winds created by the flight, but not the cold air. By the time they reached the Fortress, he was shivering uncontrollably and chilled to the bone. Still, there was no question flying on dragon-back for the first time was one of the greatest moments of his life.
He had Greta fly around the fortress several times while he waved a white sheet to make sure nobody tried to shoot them down. Ian had informed the fortress inhabitants of his intentions before he left, several months before, so he was pretty sure of safe passage. What he wasn't expecting was the large crowd waiting for him to land, and the standing ovation he received when he did.
“It's okay, Greta,” he said. “These are friends.”
Aside from a rumble of discontent, Greta remained calm. With their psychic connection, either would know if anything happened to the other. Before he left, he made sure that nobody was allowed to approach her, and under no circumstance was anyone to display weapons around her or do anything threatening in her presence.
“If she feels threatened, she will attack, and I will not be able to stop her,” Ian said.
“I thought you were getting good at this alien mind control thing,” Gabe responded. Gabe was one of the few residents not happy to see Ian. He'd been performing a demonstration of his magic when Ian showed up and stole his audience.
“I'm sorry my psychic abilities don't impress you, Gabe,” Ian replied. “I'm sure all your level nine alien companions are under much better control.”
Gabe snorted and walked away, his wizard robes flowing around him. He looked much better these days, having lost his stupid wizard hat. His wife, Sabrina, dressed him in distinguished black robes covered with Chinese symbols.
When Ian could get away, he met with the fortress leadership. On their meeting room table was a map of the area surrounding the fortress. Thanks in part to Ian, their map was detailed for fifty miles in every direction. Past this point, the map was vague and depended on information from unreliable sources.
“Greta can fly up to five hundred miles a day,” Ian said, “and fight off anything I'm likely to meet in my travels. I want to find out what's going on out there. Visit distant neighbors on a goodwill mission. Look into the possibility of information sharing, trade, that kind of thing.”
And find someone who knows the key to winning this game, or how to get past the ten-minute life/death barrier Gabe keeps complaining about, so we can finally bring Stacy back, Ian thought.
“That is all well and good, Ian,” Mrs. Wilcox responded. “But it would be nice to know who and what our neighbors are. How many? How well armed? And their military capabilities?”
“Let me make it clear that I will defend this fortress if we're attacked,” Ian said. “But I will not help you wage war on our human neighbors.”
“Obviously nobody is asking you to attack our neighbors,” Dad responded. “But if you must run off again to explore new places and get yourself killed, how about letting us know if any of our neighbors are planning to attack us in the meantime? And if they do attack us, what we should expect?”
“What did you have in mind?” Ian asked.
Dad handed him a small cell phone. “This is a durable, expensive cell phone. Please don't lose it. While you're spreading the goodwill, take pictures, videos, record conversations, and learn everything you can. We'd like aerial photographs of everything, pay attention to any tame monsters, monster trees, and use your psychic skills to let us know if there are people out there with special abilities and hostile plans.”
***
Present
Ian relaxed inside the smelly dumpster, waiting for two men to approach. He could feel they were unarmed and afraid. He waited for them to reach his dumpster, then he put them to sleep. You have good reason to think I'm stupid after I flew Greta into your trap, but I have no wish to be tortured and killed.
There was mental laughter from the psychic collective. That is unfortunate, Bridget replied. We hoped to hear a few more stories before we killed you, but we've learned enough. I expect to visit your Fortress within a few years. It would be nice to meet your alien-loving family, before we kill them.
Good luck with that, Ian replied. Over seven hundred miles is a long distance to travel. I had a way of getting there safely in a couple of days. But, oh yeah, you killed her.
Taking a force several hundred miles to Cirsium Fortress would be a huge job, even for Bridget's people. Still, way to go, Ian, telling them where you live, you trusting idiot!
He sensed people in the distance setting up a mortar to blast him out. They were too far away for him to use his gift on. An unfortunate weakness of psychics, one Bridget and her psychic collective knew well.
If you attack me, you put your men in danger, Ian mind spoke, referring to the two unconscious men next to his dumpster.
They're expendable, obviously, she replied. Goodbye, Ian, I believe you've taken up enough of our time.
Ian sighed. All the crazy shit he'd survived, to die in a dumpster hundreds of miles from home. At least Buddy was safe, back at Cirsium Fortress. Buddy had become their mascot, and one of their fiercest defenders. His Kitykity friend would feel it when Ian died and miss him terribly. This saddened him more than anything else.
He took out his glowing red syringe and injected himself with the last of The Red Scourge. No point in saving it. His pulse raced, and his muscles tightened and spasmed from the drug. He reached out again with his gift. Still no aliens close enough for him to use.
The two sleeping men sent to take him in weren't his enemy. They were like him, trying to survive.
He nudged them awake. Run, he told them. They did.