//------------------------------// // Dancing with Dragons // Story: Not Just Ponies: Dragons of Pennsylvania // by Ardashir //------------------------------// Two hours later the sun was no more than a dimming crimson glow in the west as Bram and a rested Cynthia left the house. “Miss Stoltz,” Bram wondered how to go ahead with this. “Miss Stoltz? My, so formal,” Cynthia grinned and slapped him lightly on one arm. “It's not the company making you uneasy, so I suppose it must be the clothes?” She stepped in front of him and pirouetted with surprising grace as she showed her faux-fur bikini and loincloth. Her money pouch hung at her waist, the sole intrusive aspect. Beside the six foot tall winged dragon woman, that was. “Not as ornate as my old hall costume, but given my new status as barbarian reptile from another dimension, I think it'll do. Like it?” She posed saucily, claw on hip. “Well, yes,” Bram wondered what the heck was filling that bikini quite so well, and reminded himself it wasn't his business. You better not be falling in love with a lizard woman, boy, that's against the laws of God, Man, and Siegfried County. At least, as of the moment. He still watched Cynthia as she moved to the car. Despite her new digitigrade stance and loss of her breasts and most human secondary sexual characteristics, she still had curves and moved like an attractive woman, if that made sense. Try and remember the old woman who helped with your mother – An image flashed, him holding his shuddering Mom close as Cynthia thrust the plastic basin under her mouth to catch the bile and blood that spewed out. No. Thinking of her as a pretty dragon woman is a million times better than remembering that. Why must those be the memories I have of Mom – other than because I failed her miserably, didn't keep her alive for the Conversion Bureau to save her? “Something wrong?” Cynthia seemed merry but he caught the concern in her voice. “Just wondering how I'll handle all the jealousy from those dragons tonight when they see me with you,” Bram bowed gallantly. Cynthia gave him a gentle tail-swat that still felt like a hard slap as he let her in the old compact. “At least you're dressed right,” she touched his denim jacket. “Blue jeans and a strong shirt will be for the best when I remember what Volcano told me about dragon parties. They sounded like bar brawls when he described them.” Bram started the car and backed out, turning the radio on. The news once again, about another armed robbery of a Conversion Bureau after hours and the theft of several pounds of gemstones and the wreckage of part of the assembled potions. It said, “...mostly potions for would-be dragons, griffons, and Diamond Dogs. The Bureau has promised to restock as soon as possible, and to increase their security after this, the fifth such robbery and vandalism of one of their clinics in several weeks...” Bram shut it off. Cynthia shook her head. “Idiots. I can get snatching the gems, those are valuable, but why ruin the potions too? The Bureaus' job is already hard enough. No point to making their job even more difficult.” Her voice dropped into a growl. “Unless some people just want to watch everyone die.” “I've heard that the Bureaus won't be able to save everyone, or even half so many,” Bram watched the traffic as he maneuvered. He flicked the lights to high-beam; this town needed to spend some money on better street lights. While anyone remained who'd need them, anyway. Cynthia's ear membranes folded slightly shut, like a dog pinning its ears. “I hope you're not saying they won't even try, like those crazy Human Front-whatever do,” Cynthia growled. He heard her claws slide over the back of his seat. “The Veil was a surprise to everyone. No one knew what would happen when it first contacted human life.” “But they knew after.” Bram near whispered. Cynthia fell silent. He wished he'd never seen the pictures taken by the security cameras on that one naval ship that'd leaked to the mass media. It tried penetrating the Veil before anyone knew what it was. Cynthia had been human then, his mother still alive, watching the big TV in the Topton rec room as they all saw the footage of human beings clawing, begging, screaming, as their bodies just became so much dust as the Veil washed over them. He shook himself. They say it's quick. The few volunteers who went through after to test hoped for anti-Veil treatments or equipment, before we knew it was useless, were gone in a heartbeat. But they still screamed. “Maybe the gems are what they want and they just smash the potions as a blind. Or the potions are the target and the gemstones are a lagniappe. Or they just think if we're all gonna die, why not bust some shit – sorry, I mean, why not indulge in some vandalism before the end?” “I've heard profanity before.” Cynthia sat back and snorted. “Even used it, though not as commonly as people do right now. Oh, and something Volcano hinted at with us, you and some of the other humans may get a surprise at the party tonight.” “A surprise.” Bram looked into the mirror. Cynthia smiled wickedly, lips curled back just enough to show the fangtips. “Usually when you hear words like that at a time like this it means someone's going to end up stripped naked and on the evening TV news. Maybe I should say on YouTube. Any hints?” Cynthia smirked and made a zipping up her mouth gesture. Bram put the brakes on. He saw her in the mirror. Cynthia looked at him with wide and confused eyes. “I can always drop you off right here and go home myself. I mean it, Cyn,” and he turned to glare at her. “I've been played for a fool before. I didn't care for it. I won't put up with it again.” Cynthia looked ready to argue. With a sigh she leaned back, her horns bumping the back of her seat. “Okay. Volcano made a deal with the Conversion Bureau. He'll have six scrolls at the party.” “Huh?” Bram blinked. This sounded vaguely familiar. Too vaguely. “Scrolls? What scrolls?” “Transforming ones. You know,” Cynthia leaned forward, her wings spreading slightly and golden eyes alight in her excitement. “They've been mentioned on the news more than once. You read one and it can transform you into a young adult version of one of the Equestrian races for a day. Volcano's going to be using dragon ones.” She sounded gleeful. “You wondered what it was like to be a dragon? Tonight you can find out. Breathe fire, fly,” her wings rustled, “see and hear and smell like we can...” “I have a pretty good idea how much you smell,” Bram said innocently. Hard scaly knuckles thumped against the back of his head. “Jerk,” Cynthia said without rancor. One or two cars passed by them, lights bright. Bram wondered what they must think of a man stopped on the road with a New Whelp in the back seat. He doubted it was anything polite. “No, think. You asked a couple of times what being a dragon is like? Tonight, you can find out.” “What a thrill,” Bram said. “Can the gang swing by Tokyo later?” Cynthia stuck her inches-long tongue out at him. He wondered something. “Hey, if they can just transform people into young adult dragons, then why not use them to transform people in place of the potions? No needing to wait fifty or sixty years to become a teenage dragon, or needing lessons on how to fly and breathe fire.” Cynthia shook her head. “Wouldn't work. Volcano and the Bureau ponies explained it. The scrolls merely change your physical form, not your,” she waved one claw by her muzzle, “your essential nature or soul, I guess. That's more difficult but also far less likely to be dispelled by magical countermeasures. That and the scrolls are temporary; apparently the instilling not just new instincts but the knowledge of how to use them takes more magical energy. Lastly,” she looked at him and raised one claw in warning like Volcano, “if you did manage to make the scroll transformation permanent, you'd be in that form and age for the rest of your life. I'm a dragon now. I'll be as big as a jumbo jet one day,” she looked proud, “but with the scroll? You'd be stuck at teenager-size forever.” She worked in the seat to get comfortable. “Apparently it was suggested to the dragons back in Equestria, but they refused. To them, a dragon forever denied their full growth and strength is a pitiful thing.” “But no worries about that,” Cynthia almost purred. “In fact, no worries at all! Let's both have fun for once, fly under the moonlight, have a fire-breathing contest, dance without me worrying that an accidental tail slap will pulverize you.” She gripped his shoulder. “I just want to have some fun, and I want you to as well, okay?” “Okay,” Bram said, smiling himself at her enthusiasm. Who ever said dragons were cold-blooded? He pulled back out onto the road. “Tomorrow I'll worry again but tonight we whoop it up.” # # # Dragons soared over the Steel Stacks. Twin floodlights sprayed up into the darkness all around the old Bethlehem Steel blast furnaces. Long plumes of fire shot up from the roof of the main building and bat-winged forms flew over it. They looped and wheeled and called laughingly to each other. The main lot was crammed with cars, vans, even a few trucks with what looked like horse trailers attached. “Those will be for Volcano and the other instructors, the big ones anyway,” Cynthia looked excited. “He said that most of the dragons in the Mid-Atlantic will be here tonight, Equestrian-born ones and New Whelps, maybe as many as two or three hundred.” She clapped her claws as the sound of music came from one of the buildings, a heavy steady metallic lyric-less thoom-thoom-thoom that Bram felt shaking his teeth even at this distance. Cynthia clapped her claws in glee. “Oh, I always wanted to dance to some of that music! I mean, I hope they have some 50's rock and old big band like I remember from my dating days, but I want to dance to that too!” “I should have brought my earplugs,” Bram muttered. He enjoyed seeing Cynthia so happy. He just wished she didn't bounce up and down so much, the car bouncing and squealing along with her; he didn't want to think what it was doing to the shocks. He slowed as they approached the front gate. A roadblock was set up, letting only one vehicle through at a time. Some very no-nonsense looking humans and ponies were there, both local police and what he'd been told were Equestrian Royal Guard seconded to the conversion centers for security. The latter wore what looked like Classical Greek and Rome themed barding, all in either gold for the unicorns and pegasi or deep purple for the bat-winged ponies with fangs. The ponies bore lances in side-mounted harnesses. Some had swords with those cup-hilts made to fit over the end of a pony's hoof. The human police bore their usual sidearms and what looked like spray cans at their belts. Cynthia started impatiently tapping her claws against a scaly leg as they slowly pulled up to the gate. It sounded like hard rain on a tin roof. “Can't they hurry?” “Sir,” one officer said as Bram pulled up. “Here for the New Whelp party?” “You tell me,” Cynthia snapped from the back seat. “Very nice, madam.” The officer's hand slipped towards the spray can and then stopped. Bram caught a hint of the words 'bear mace'. He nodded; that would affect even a dragon where low-caliber bullets wouldn't. “The main building right over there is where the party is --” He pointed at the one with the small crowd of dragons standing outside and flying above it, and that heavy pounding music coming from it. “Truly it is well hidden,” Bram said. The officer's glare suggested he'd heard enough clowns for one night. “Yes, sir.” He looked at Bram. He looked back at Cynthia's outfit, then at Bram again, and his mouth twisted as though he'd eaten something sour. “You her guest?” “He is,” Cynthia said. She set her claw on his shoulder and squeezed. “Someone has to try keeping her out of trouble, officer,” Bram said, trying his best to be respectful. Unhappy police had lousy senses of humor. The officer scowled. He looked heavy-built and tired and to have way too much seniority to be enduring this crap. “Any reason for all the security tonight?” “Just being careful,” one of the bat-ponies behind the police officer said. He half turned waved his hoof at the building. The officer hurriedly got out of the way of the lance point protruding beyond the thestral's armored chest. “Those robberies did happen recently, and there are a lot of clinic personnel here from all through the Atlantic-Middle --” “Mid-Atlantic.” Bram, Cynthia, and the officer all said it at once. “Mid-Atlantic,” the thestral said without missing a beat. “If someone wanted to 'make a statement' they could do worse than to do it here. We couldn't stop them if they were determined enough.” He seemed to realize he'd said too much to be reassuring. He quickly added, “Not that anything will.” The officer just nodded and waved them through. Bram felt the butterflies start up in his stomach as he drove past. He doubted anything would happen. Most HLF antics were, when you got right down to it, noisy demonstrations that got a lot of undue attention and amounted to absolutely nothing. But here? He looked around, past the new and refurbished buildings used for parties and art shows and movies to the rusting and abandoned Bethlehem Steel beyond. Those buildings loomed huge and silent, with plenty of room for just about anyone to hide out. Past them rose that eyesore casino the Sands. “Cynthia,” he parked the car and let her out, “if you and your dragon pals ever decided to burn anything in this town down...” Cynthia silenced him with a groan and a shake of her head. “Please, Bram, not the casino again!” She stretched with a grunt. Her cavewoman outfit moved in highly interesting ways. “Bethlehem isn't the town it once was. We're not the people we once were.” She wagged her spiky tail in emphasis. “Like your mother used to say, 'life goes on, will it or not.' “I just wish the city found something better to try reviving the economy than that,” he grumbled. “Even if the two and four legged tourists love it.” She held out her arm for him to take. He gladly accepted. They walked towards the party. The vibrations from the music shook right through their bones. Bram watched all around as they walked. The parking lot was well lit, but once you got past it and into the rest of the complex shadows lay everywhere. Anyone could be in among them waiting to jump you. He reminded himself to be careful. He did NOT want to be embarrassed in front of Cynthia and the other dragons. So of course that was when someone slammed into him. Cynthia, Bram, and his attacker all yelled at once. Bram stumbled and fell with whoever it was landing on him, elbow sinking into his belly. He gagged. “Bram! Are you alright?” A scaly arm reached down and hurled his attacker off to the side. As Cynthia did it his attacker shrieked. “Let go a' me, you dumb lizard!” He stepped back, slapping Cynthia's claws away. Bram recognized him as one of the Lehigh University guys who'd wolf-whistled Cynthia earlier. He didn't look quite so happy to be seeing her now. A long tear showed in his jacket. When he saw it he gave a yell and started waving his fist at her. “My jacket! You stupid scaly bitch! You ruined it! You're gonna pay for a new one!” Bram opened his mouth to say something, but before he could that familiar voice spoke. A shadow fell across Lehigh and Bram both. “Will she indeed, hatchling? I doubt it.” Volcano's claw darted down and snatched the kid up by the scruff of the jacket. He dangled before the larger dragon's muzzle. Twin streams of smoke trickled from his nostrils. That long tongue flickered over the half exposed fangs, leaving them gleaming with saliva. Behind him Bram saw three other dragons, teens by their sizes, only slightly larger than a normal human. Lehigh choked and went silent as Volcano said, “You were told to leave after trying to force your way in with your clutch.” Volcano waved Lehigh over towards several frat boys, all of whom looked like they badly wanted to be somewhere else, “When that failed, you stood at the door and made odd noises at the dragonesses.” Lehigh worked his mouth for several moments before intelligible sounds began to emerge. “Look, Mister Lizard, I, ah, I swear I was just joking. Just some fun. Those ladies didn't mind, did they?” He looked in desperation at the dragonesses. “Bite the ape's head off for all I care,” one slim pink-scaled one said, sporting long spiraling horns and a tail almost as long as her body. She leaned back on it, her feet almost clear of the ground. She idly examined her claws. They looked like fishhooks. “I didn't like what he said about my rump.” The other dragons behind her hissed in eager approval. “Trueborns from Equestria, probably.” Bram whispered to Cynthia. She just nodded. Lehigh whimpered in terror. His friends looked to be deciding whether to run or just sneak away. “Maybe I will.” Volcano held him close and sniffed at him. His maw opened as if for an experimental bite. Remaining silent was the wise course. Bram groaned at his own stupidity and spoke up. “Volcano? Sir? Perhaps you can let him go? He looks scared to death. I bet he'd be glad to leave if you did.” Volcano frowned at him, showing fang. Bram spoke loudly enough to be heard over the music. “Besides, it'd ruin the party.” A short sharp bark of draconic laughter came from Big Tail. She walk-slithered closer, using her tail as much as her legs. She sneered down her long slender muzzle. “You don't know much, human, if you think this would ruin our party.” “It will indeed, young miss,” Bram made sure to remember every single thing he'd read about dragon manners, looking her in the face to show he didn't fear her but not in the eyes to challenge. Keeping looking at her, he pointed back towards the gate. “Because those men and ponies will want to be asking you questions for the rest of the night, and probably the next few days as well.” Struck by inspiration, he said, “And what would Dragon Lord Ember think?” That got them. The dragons looked at the cowering frat boys and stepped aside. The looks on their faces, fangs bared, smoke rising from nostrils, eyes agleam with bloodlust, suggested they would have loved yanking some of their limbs off. Volcano just grunted, reached over with Lehigh, and dropped him atop his friends. “Go, hatchlings,” he turned back to the party. Bram noticed he did keep partly turned towards him and Cynthia but set his back to the boys. “Before I decide you are worth my time and trouble.” They needed no further encouragement. They scrambled to escape. After they were gone, Volcano slumped and let out something like a bass chuckle. “Idiots.” Laughter rose from the other dragons as he turned that fanged grin on Cynthia and Bram. “You two I know. You can enter.” “Thank you, Volcano.” Bram sagged in relief. “I'm just glad there was no, ah, unneeded trouble.” “What, with those?” Volcano snorted again. “Human, had those young fools asked politely if they could enter, I would have let them go. Some strange-to-my-scent humans are already inside. A few more would make no difference.” He smiled as at some pleasant thought. “If they want to make trouble once inside, when surrounded by dragons, they will fall on their own foolishness.” “I believe they would,” Bram answered him, wishing his voice sounded stronger. He wanted to go inside, but Volcano kept his gaze locked with his. Not wanting to insult the touchy dragon he stood still. “Just so you know, human, there may be a few surprises later tonight for you and yours,” Volcano lowered his head and looked Bram in the eye. “Watch how you behave and they may be pleasant surprises.” Meanwhile the younger dragons went crowding around Cynthia, full of questions. “Well, New Whelp, how are you called? Cynthia? Sure you want to be called that for eight hundred years, instead of a proper dragon name? What are you wearing? It's fur? Did it come from a griffon? Why do you New Whelps wear clothes anyway, scales are enough... What is that music they play with all the high-pitched sounds – Big Band? Sounds like some pony name. I bet you like it better as a dragon than as some old dying human, don't you? Congratulations on being wise enough to join the best side... Want to dance, dragoness? Or try fire belching, or flying contests, or see who can roar the loudest?” The last speaker, a male with light gray scales touched with crimson and dark gray wing and ear membranes, set deed to word by tossing his head back and giving a wild roar that echoed off the walls. The others save Volcano immediately tossed their heads back and roared as well. They looked at her eagerly. Cynthia looked about in confusion. It was one thing to be told how actual dragons acted, another to be confronted by the loud and energetic reality. She gave Bram a wondering look. Her eyes hardened. She threw her head back and roared as loudly as any of them. They cheered. Half the car alarms in the parking lot went off as though applauding. “Bram! Did you hear that?” Cynthia spun and hugged him. “I – that came out of ME! Last winter I had to be on oxygen for my cold. This is better than I ever imagined!” “I think I heard the first part,” Bram worked his fingers in his ears. Nope, still working. He pointed at the door. “Maybe we can go inside and let the bouncer squad get back to work?” Cynthia nodded eagerly, all smiles, and they walked into what looked to be Dragon Rave Central. The music, loud outside, felt more like a physical wave beating against him here. Lights flashed, crimson and blue and yellow as the, surprisingly enough, human DJ worked the controls. Heat washed against them; between perhaps a hundred or more dragon bodies, the dragon-supplied fire being used at what seemed to be a wheeled-in barbecue pit for what looked like whole sides of beef - how had they ever swung that by the Stacks and the fire department - and the building itself, it felt like mid-July. And the crowd. Dragons whooped and howled, their roars audible even over the music, some flying out through the upper-story doors that opened onto the balcony to 'dance' above the building, some down on the floor, and some by the tables piled with barbecued meat. Fangs eagerly crunched through flesh and bone alike. Cynthia licked her lips. He took a whiff as they passed by and almost choked on the smell from whatever the dragons were coating the meat with. Much spicier and it'd set the inside of his nose on fire. “Smells good,” Cynthia licked her lips and stuck her muzzle in his ear to be heard. “I'm getting some of that before we leave.” “Normally I love barbecue, but this time, I think I'll bow out.” Bram touched his mouth. “I'd like to have a working tongue left tomorrow.” They went around the eager scaly mob on the dance floor. He quickly figured out the Equestrian Trueborn dragons from the New Whelps; the Trueborn were making mock-combat moves, claws and fangs flashing, both males and females alike. They were also climbing the large stones that seem to have been put in place for just such use, and occasionally screeching at the top of their considerable lungs for no reason other than the sheer joy of it. Also, they were all teens. So were most of the New Whelps, but some few were hatchlings. They whooped it up as well, non-senior citizen New Whelps who'd need to wait a few decades to hit their dragon teen years. The other New Whelps just seemed to be enjoying themselves dragon-watching, though a few looked displeased at the music. Some of them wore clothes, if only short pants or skirts. As he watched one such yelped and jumped as a grinning nude dragon behind them, brown-gold in color, snatched their shirt (a hole in the back for the wings) and ran out the doors with it, waving it like a banner. The New Whelp pounded after them. He watched and heard their howl as the gold dragon set the shirt on fire and swung it around their head outside. Goldie howled, “More fire!” Dragons cheered. “Better watch that outfit if you want to keep it,” he told Cynthia. “I will,” she said. She smirked and indicated several very interested onlooking male New Whelps. “They seem to be watching it, too.” Bram noticed and scowled at them. The dragons looked highly amused. “When're they gonna play the King again?” One dragon grumbled to his partner, a fierce-looking gold and green dragoness, as they passed. “Wait until you hear that, Pyrite, that's some real music to dance to.” “A king?” Pyrite's golden eyes gleamed with sudden greed. “I heard human kings have hoards, does he?” “Yeah, one of blue suede shoes!” Bram and Cynthia left the confused-looking dragoness behind and went deeper into the room. The other members of the crowd either danced or stuck to the sides, well away from the dragons. They were mostly humans. Some were both relations and friends of the New Whelps. The rest were the Lehigh University and Moravian College kids who'd crashed so they could brag about partying it up with dragons. Members of both groups were on the sidelines filming the show. He saw a few ponies at the sides of the room as well, almost certainly Conversion Bureau staff here to keep an eye on things. Bram had to smile. This might be a sign of what was going to come for humanity, but everyone was happy tonight. “You're glad you came.” Cynthia gave him a squeeze around the waist. “I'm glad to be with you,” he said and lightly kissed her extended scaly hand. Just in time for the big gray from outside to shove in between them. “Hey, shiny scales,” he hissed, spreading his wings out to push Bram back, “I'm Tephra. Want to try one of these human dances? Or you want to find out how dragons dance?” He stepped up to her and swung his hips against hers. If dragon could leer, this one did. Cynthia gave a startled laugh. Bram cleared his throat and stepped up beside Cynthia, making sure to catch Tephra's eye. The dragon showed fang. Bram forced himself to look unimpressed. He remembered what he'd read. Manners with Ponies and Changelings. Polite defiance with Dragons and Griffons. “The lady has a date for the evening,” Bram said. He made himself not recoil when Tephra turned on him, head down and neck extended, wings arching out and a wicked light in his eyes. Wanna fight? Bram folded his arms across his chest nonchalantly. Inside he sweated in fear. “She promised me the first dance.” “That's right,” Cynthia took him by the arm. “The first dance is yours.” She looked at the annoyed Tephra and gave him a fang-filled smile. “The next is yours.” With no further word she swept Bram out onto the dance floor. Bram would rather have waited for something a little slower. He liked slow dancing, arm in arm with a lovely lady. Still, when in the Dragonlands. He moved and twisted as best he could, well aware that he was more enthusiastic than graceful. The dragons seemed as amused, or maybe just as contemptuous, of him as of any other human. Remembering the mock claw strikes, he tried some shadowboxing. They laughed out loud. “Never mind them,” Cynthia slipped around behind and embraced him. Her wings folded around Bram, slightly muting the sounds and hiding most of the room. “One day you'll be as big as Volcano, just like I will.” If I live to. If I want to. Cynthia's claws wandered, almost politely, and he forgot about everything else but dancing. Too soon the song ended. The music changed to something more from her youth. Bram couldn't identify it, but it had a familiar 50's-style beat to it. “Ah-ah-ah,” Cynthia said, stepping back and extending her claw to Tephra. “Now it's his turn.” Tephra smirked and all but shoved him aside. Tephra spun before Cynthia, claws and fangs prominent, wings spread and flame licking at his jaws in full threat display. She began to copy it – hesitantly at first, then with greater enthusiasm. Tephra growled approval and with a leap, wings beating heavily, took to the air. Cynthia growled her eagerness and followed. With a wing-clap Tephra flew for the wide-open doors. Cynthia took off after him. The two other females flew after her. Bram heard them calling after the dancers, the words turning his ears red. Among the more printable was, “Don't sire a clutch on her until after the dance, Tephra!” He hurried after them around the crowd, stepped outside and saw them both going high above the Steel Stacks, the dragonesses close behind like bridal maids or attendants. They flew about each other as gracefully as hawks. Cynthia's whooping laughter came back down to him. He suddenly felt heavy and earth-bound and very mortal. She's having the time of her life. She deserves it. Better than being locked down here with me, anyway. He walked into a side room. A wide window in the front wall showed everything outside. Volcano sat on his self-appointed guard duty, his tail-tip swinging back and forth in time with the music. Bram wondered if he remembered or missed somedragon back home. Two ponies stood inside, one the Clinic guardspony from that morning. What was his name? Iron Wing, yes, that was it. The other was a unicorn speaking quietly with him. “So we'll take care of that later,” the unicorn said. Magic sparked an electric blue along his horn. “Let's just hope the job doesn't get complicated.” “Security work is never easy,” Iron Wing answered. The ponies nodded, manes tossing, and the unicorn left. A table and a water dispenser were against the wall with the spigot set close to the floor for four-legged guests. A pitcher and some plastic cups were on the table as well as a gallon of milk in a basin filled with melting ice. No dragons were within. Good; right then he didn't want any superior-seeming or overly delighted fire lizards. “Hello, Iron Wing.” Bram said. The pony nodded at him, a faint smile of sympathy on his face. Bram scowled but he nodded him back. Just because his night took a turn for the worse, no need to take it out on this pony . He drank some milk, enjoying the relative silence. “Looks like she forgot you, but dragons don't pay much attention to anybeing other than themselves.” Iron Wing snorted and drank from a small bucket set nearby on the floor. “Believe me, I know. You do patrols on the border nearest the Dragonlands for a decade, you get to know what dragons are like.” He looked up at Bram, eye to eye. Normally pony gazes seemed innocent and trusting. This one looked cold and wary. “So,” Bram took another drink himself. “What are they really like?” “Violent. Greedy. Very overproud – what is that human word?” The pegasus tossed his mane. “For one who is proud beyond normal pride?” “Hubris?” At the pony's curious stare Bram explained. “It means excessive pride, arrogance, recklessness that defies even the gods.” “Hubris. Yes. A good word.” Iron Wing nodded agreement. “The dragons are too proud, too reckless and violent. I do not think Celestia or Twilight told you humans this,” he pinned his ears and snorted, pure angry horse, “and I am certain that barbarian Ember did not, but right before the Veil happened she was ready to take the dragons to war against the Yaks. Do you know why?” Bram shook his head no. “It was because one of the Element Bearers, that silly one, Pinkie Pie was honored by them with the title of 'honorary Yak'. It had been done only once before, to a dragon.” He blew, stomped over to a nearby water dispenser, put his bucket under the spigot and set his hoof on the lever closest to the floor and filled it in a gurgling flood. He walked back to Bram. “Just an empty honorary title, but it was enough to make the dragons want to burn Yakyakistan to the ground.” “I've heard the Yaks can get very aggressive,” Bram said, warily. He refilled his own cup and took another glance out the window. Cynthia wheeled maybe forty or fifty feet above, laughing. Tephra flew close, darted under her and pressed close. Their muzzles began to come together – He walked back to Iron Wing. He wished his words sounded less harsh. “Maybe they provoked them.” “How?” Iron Wing snorted. “By honoring a pony as they once did a dragon? And even if they did anger the dragons, what right was there in meaning to kill hundreds of Yaks for it? I was instructed about your history before being stationed here, all of us were.” He pointed a heavy hoof at Bram. Scar tissue showed just beyond the fetlock, smooth and shiny like melted plastic left to set. Only a little pony hair remained on it. “Your kind did such things once, but you have grown wiser since.” “Some of us. A little.” Bram looked out at the dance floor. They'd gone back to more modern music. It was a techno version of 'Puff the Magic Dragon'. Some of the New Whelps gave the harsh barks that passed for dragon laughter and began swaying and singing along. The humans joined them. The Trueborns just looked confused. It looked like a kid's cartoon. He went back to the table. “Why are you telling me all this?” “Because I think Equestria made a mistake.” The pegasus slumped and looked tired. “We should not have invited all the races of Equestria to join in the Conversion Bureaus. The Dragons, the Diamond Dogs, and the Griffons are all peoples we've had problems with of late. Be it raiding, or slave taking, or smuggling. We should at least have told them they'd be rejected from any Conversion plans until they stopped their troublemaking.” He whipped his tail against his flanks, against the tabard he wore bearing the double sun and moon insignia. “But the Princesses listened to Princess Twilight, and to the promises the dragon Ember made. They offered her two percent of your race, with maybe more depending on how many gem-growing Earth ponies are converted. I know something of your population,” Iron Wing scowled as he worked over the numbers. “Roughly eight billion. So that means...” “One hundred sixty million New Whelp dragons,” Bram said easily. He'd gone over the numbers with Cynthia and even Volcano once or twice. The sound of a scuffle came from the party. He and Iron Wing both went to see. One dancing college kid local hip-blocked a nearby dragon that looked like a barrel with arms and legs. The dragon's return mosh sent them rolling away head over heels. The human got up and limped away, dazed. The dragon didn't even seem to have noticed. His fellows did and jeered laughter. “Volcano told us Ember wasn't 'given' anyone, she was told she could accept that many New Whelps." Bram nodded at the crowd. "But that's a lot of dragons.” Iron Wing shuddered, ears flicking back in short sharp fear. “Human, that's almost as many ponies as live in Equestria. The current dragon population is anypony's guess, but the biggest estimates put it at four million.” He rose and flew in front of Bram, locking him eye to eye. “What do you think your homeland, or your world, is going to do when nearly two hundred million adult dragons start looking for all the territory and gemstones and meat they need to survive, both them and whatever spawn they have?” Bram had thought about it before, a little. He'd taken it for granted that he'd be long dead by then along with whoever else among humanity decided against conversion. He had a mental flash of a scene from a movie he'd seen once years ago when dragons were still comfortably fictional, where dragons returned and swarmed across the globe killing everyone. A second and worse image, of some village of ponies or yaks or whatever with everyone screaming and galloping away from two dragons. One a huge gray male and beside him his mate, sleek in ebon and gold, with flame washing down from laughing jaws. Cynthia wouldn't do that. The woman my mother knew and I know wouldn't. But is Cynthia still that woman? He looked outside. New Whelps and Trueborns danced together, all but indistinguishable. Are any of them still the people they once were? “They've set aside land for them when they get big,” Bram wished he felt as sure as he sounded. “The UN and world governments discussed it with Ember and the Princesses. In Kamchatka, in the Sierras and Rockies, the Alps and Kunlun Mountains. Some dragons are already there to search out good spots for the lairs.” “And maybe they mean that, for now,” Iron Wing said. “But if they break their word when the time comes, what will you do?” He indicated the dance floor. One dragon spewed flame into the barbecue pit. The cooks scattered with yells. Others cheered and joined in, breathing fire into the already white-hot coals. Bram decided the sprinklers must have been turned off, else they'd all be getting drenched. One of the pony Bureau staff hurried over and protested, their words inaudible over the music. The dragons laughed; some snarled. The frightened pony backed away, ears pinned and eyes rolling, until they backed into Volcano as he came inside, squeezing his way through the wide double doors. The bigger dragon just snarled at the offenders and pointed to the door. They left with surly grace. He sat there watching the party and looking surly. “Even if the worst were true,” Bram said, wondering where Cynthia was and what was taking her so long? Don't give her your clutch until after the dance, Tephra... Oh for pity's sake, trust her! He repeated, “If it were true, then what? The potions have been made back in Equestria, right? It's convert or die. Do you think the dragons would be willing to give up what they've been promised?” “There are ways,” Iron Wing said softly. Bram leaned close to hear his words. The pegasus looked as though he was speaking words he'd long turned over in his mind. “I speak in hypotheticals, you understand. What if dragon potions were lost or damaged, say, made pony ones instead? Not all of them, no, but enough broken for now than when the final panic comes – and we both know it will, human, your people can be as foolish as mine – the pony potions are all that's left? No hordes of dragons, everypony else can sleep without worrying about being burned in their beds...” Cynthia flew into the building and dropped to the floor with a laugh. Tephra and his two friends came in behind her. Iron Wing fell silent and walked away as though he'd been saying nothing at all. She walked to Bram, her eyes aglow with joy. Her costume looked disheveled. “What are you two conspiring about?” Cynthia asked, smiling and panting slightly. Tephra and his friends stood behind her, looking quite pleased. Bram scowled. Tephra looked a little too satisfied for his liking. Tephra noticed his look and tilted his head back, looking smug. Bram felt his scowl deepen. Watch it, you lecherous lizard. Remember who my family is named after. Siegfried slew Fafnir. Of course, he was the son of a god and had a magic sword rather than the son of a steelworker with a broken down car. “Bram?” “Sorry,” he gave Cynthia a quick squeeze. She looked surprised. Tephra just gave an amused snort. “I was wondering, would you like to step away from the dance for a bit? It's crowded in here, and,” he glanced at a nearby poster advertising some of the other attractions at the Steel Stacks, “look, they'll be showing some of those movies you enjoy at the theater. Maybe you'd like to go take one in, and then come back? You know, just us?” He spoke to her but aimed the last words at Tephra and his lady friends. Cynthia looked uncertain until she turned to see the listed movies. “Oh, like those Jabootu guys? The ones who do the cheesy old SF films? I love those movies.” Her lips split in a fanged grin. “They give you cheese with the movie?” One of Tephra's two dragonesses, the pink-scaled one with the long horns and longer tail tilted her head to one side. She frowned. “I tried bringing my own food to one of those things and they told me I had to eat it outside. I didn't even get to see the moving-pictures.” The last words sounded off. The translation spells used by ponies to grant dragons the use of human language must have stumbled over the actual dragon words used. “No, dear,” Cynthia quickly said. She smiled and rubbed her scaly chin. “They mean movies that aren't very good, but they still entertain you. Just, er, not the way they were meant to.” Tephra and the two dragonesses looked at them blankly. Cynthia shook her head and motioned towards the door. “You know, it would be easier to just show you. Bram, you can pay for them, can't you?” “What? I mean, yes,” Bram followed her. The three dragons followed, looking curious and eager. As they passed outside, the pounding music growing faint behind and the deepening darkness laying over them, he said, “Cynthia, it's over on the other side of the complex. Maybe we can cut through by there?” He pointed at the old abandoned blast furnaces. They looked like half-ruined towers in the dark. Cynthia looked uneasy. Bram guessed what she was thinking. Before the Veil there'd been robberies here; come to think of it there still were. Though now most robbers were careful about potential victims powerful enough to beat them to a pulp. Still, a bullet or even knife in the eye? Bram didn't want to see Cynthia or even those three annoying reptiles get hurt. Tephra settled it for him “We'll go and see these cheese-whatever movies, Cynthia.” He moved to stand beside her, his tail reaching up to lightly slap against her flank. As she blushed, he gave Bram a ponderous wink and expelled some smoke and fire from his muzzle. “And don't worry about your still-human friend, Lancer and Beryl will help us keep him safe from any troublemakers.” It was obvious the 'us' referred to Cynthia along with the Trueborns. Tephra craned his neck and looked at the dragonesses. ”Isn't that right?” He nodded at the pink and then the yellow dragoness. Lancer grinned at Bram as she slithered between Cynthia and him. Her muzzle was especially pointy and snipy making the origin of her name an easy guess. The horns set atop and beneath her muzzle pointing sharply backwards like harpoon barbs didn't hurt. Beryl was a glittering yellow with a high crest flopping over to one side like a Veronica Lake hairdo. Her smile crawled along just one side of her muzzle. “Come on, human,” Beryl took him by one arm, tugging him away from Tephra and Cynthia. They took the lead, abandoning him to their mercies. Beryl spoke again, her voice husky and with only a touch of the usual draconic rasp. “We'll keep you safe from everything else. Right, Lancer?” “Safe enough,” she hissed, batting her eyes at him. Bram colored and tried to look directly ahead. His cheeks flamed as their laughter filled the air, echoing from the old abandoned furnaces. Wanting to think of something else, he looked around, wondering what they must have been like back when the place was operating full blast. “Say, Cynthia,” he called out. She looked back at him, curious. Tephra's glance flashed with annoyance. Bram smiled. “Your husband worked at the Steel, right? Did he ever say how many ships they made here in World War 2?” “Your grandfather worked here too, and your father,” Cynthia called back to him. “Your mother told me as much. Didn't they tell you?” “But not in the war; he joined afterwards.” He thought some more, remembered a few other things he shared with her. “He told me about guys like I-You.” “Wasn't he the one who lived up in the Poconos with the rattlesnakes?” Cynthia frowned, her crest lowering and the tip of her tail flicking back and forth as she thought. “No, wait, that was Crazy Zeke. I-You was the one foreman the ladelers threatened to toss into the hot steel when he ratted on them.” “Ladelers?” “The men who poured the molten steel,” Cynthia lightly tapped Tephra's muzzle. “Like you said you do back home when you make your armor.” “Hmm, tossed into hot steel?” Tephra and the dragonesses perked their ear membranes up. They looked very interested now. “I thought humans couldn't live through diving into anything actually warm.” Bram almost laughed but Cynthia beat him to it. Her laughter sounded as raucous as any other dragon's, splashing against the walls around them and spilling out into the lot before them, with the movie theater at the end of it. “'Warm', Tephra?” Cynthia shook her head. She flapped her wings out like leathery sails. “Lava weighs in at 2100 Fahrenheit. Molten steel is even hotter. I think even a dragon would have a hard time with molten steel.” By then they'd reached the theater. The building itself looked like any modern small movie house, lacking what Bram considered the neon-laced character of the Roxy back in Siegfried Station. The crowd outside looked normal. Well, normal for the post-Veil and Conversion Bureau Earth. Mostly humans, skewing a bit older here, though with the expected number of local college students. Ponies were scattered among the crowd, mainly the typical Earth ponies-Unicorns-Pegasi save for three Thestrals chatting away excitedly about the vampire movie that apparently just ended. Well, two of them were talking. The third paid attention to his nosebag filled with popcorn. A pair of griffons chattered excitedly. A feline Abyssinian, tall and graceful with a calico coat, walking out arm in arm with one of the college students completed the picture. No dragons despite the New Whelp party, with the music still faintly audible even from here. Looking back Bram saw some bat-winged figures stooping and wheeling above the main building. Fire flared out from one, painfully bright against the deepening darkness. Cynthia's cried out in delight. “Hah, a double feature!” She pointed at the poster done in what looked like 50's style. Two panels advertised tonight's offering, The Magic Sword and The Cyclops. “Oh, my husband loved Bert Gordon. His films were ridiculous!” Tephra looked uncertain, smoke spilling from his nostrils and tail coiling. Cynthia grabbed him by the shoulders and nearly squeed. “Tephra, you and the girls will love these! They're hilarious! Aren't they, Bram?” Smiling widely, she looked to him for confirmation. Some nearby moviegoers blanched at the sight of those fangs and suddenly found business elsewhere. Tephra gave her a cautious look that clearly wondered what this dragoness – this woman, was leading him into. Bram glanced to either side. Lancer and Beryl looked at him a little more eagerly now. “So, uh, how many movies have you two seen since coming to Earth?” “None at all!” Lancer bounced up and down on her tail. “Tephra's been here for months and he's seen some. He told us about them and when Dragon Lord Ember asked if we wanted to come help Volcano we said yes. We have to see these!” “Oh, you'll never forget what you see here.” Bram winced as they clapped their claws in joy. He hoped this didn't end badly for them. Before them Cynthia and walked in arm in arm. Lancer and Beryl looked envious. They looked at him and their eyes lit up. “Now, ladies,” Bram felt himself break out in a cold sweat at their looks. “No need for --” With pleased growls a pair of scaly arms shot around Bram from either side like hungry pythons. They squeezed so hard he wondered if they were trying to meet in the middle. “We want to keep an eye on you,” Lancer growl-purred at him, setting that long muzzle on his shoulder as she said, “Just like Tephra will with our new sister.” “He'll take good care of her, human,” Beryl lowered her muzzle and smirked slyly. She ran one clawtip over his arm. He began wondering what he had done to deserve this. “Just like he asked us to keep an eye on you.” Bram gulped and entered with them after getting tickets all around. The ticket seller gave him a dirty look and muttered something about 'scaly screwer'. Thankfully they missed it. Or maybe not; at his blush they rubbed closer against him. “Wow, look at all the room!” Lancer hissed in delight as they entered. “Hey, can we hover and watch the movie that way?” “No! Ladies,” He quickly said as they turned furious glares on him, “that's impolite here.” “And?” They looked at him blankly. Bram thought fast. “The theater would throw you out and you'd never know how the show ended,” Bram said. "Like what happened with you before, Lancer. Remember?" Fangtips showed at their lips, but they folded their wings in. He guided them to some seats that gave him a view of Cynthia and Tephra. He could see Tephra lashing his tail in annoyance several rows away as Cynthia explained that he needed to take a seat. An usher stood nearby, looking nervous at the prospect of having to ask the six foot tall plus fire-breather to step out of the aisle. Cynthia finally got Tephra to sit beside her. He did so with ill temper. That did bring a smile to Bram's face. “Huh, why are you angry – no, wait, humans show fang when they're happy, right?” Lancer's gaze followed his. The smile slipped from Bram's face as Cynthia snugged Tephra close. She looked to be giving him lessons in human courtship Bram didn't think the lizard needed. “What, and humans do that too?” She looked over at Beryl, who just snorted. “You know what Ember and Volcano said, Lancer. 'Be polite'.” Bram choked as a pair of scaly arms shot around him from either side again. It felt like being wrapped up by two constrictors with internal heaters. Maybe some of his discomfort got through; their bone-crushing grip loosened slightly. Beryl leaned in close and growled softly. “Now, human, you can pay attention to us, and not our new sister and Tephra.” “I doubt I could stop paying attention to you two,” Bram scraped the words out. The ladies lifted their muzzles and grinned without displaying any fangs. No wonder, he thought, all those pamphlets said that Equestrian dragons mostly associated with each other. No one else could survive the experience.