Not Just Ponies: Dragons of Pennsylvania

by Ardashir

Working with Dragons

Bram watched a dozen New Whelp dragons high above as they hovered and looped around their twice-their-size instructor Volcano.

It was late Autumn and early morning and being up this high on the main ridge of Hawk Mountain in Southeast Pennsylvania made it feel even colder. He shivered at the chill. Not even standing close to a very warm fire with hot coffee bubbling away on it in two pots helped. In the near distance the slightly higher peak of the Pinnacle rose, with Ecksville down in the valley between them. Volcano motioned towards it. Another three New Whelps flew to it and circled it lazily, their wings outstretched to catch even the slightest wind, before they flew back and rejoined the rest. He wondered if any hikers were on the Pinnacle today and if so, what they thought of the unexpected show overhead.

“The Pinnacle was always supposed to have dragons flying around it,” Bram murmured, remembering the old legends his parents told him. He looked at the other people there, friends and family to the New Whelps riding the skies above. Most were dressed a little better than him, several recorded what they were seeing with cell phones or small video cameras, many just watched emitting little clouds of steam as they breathed in the chill late Autumn air. He looked back up in time to see a few raptors scatter and fly around the dragons. The New Whelps' laughter crashed down on him and the others before it splashed down into the valley beyond. Acres of trees in it still showed Autumn's red and gold, though many were looking sparse by now.

“Golden Eagles, I think,” one of the others said as he watched through binoculars. Bram guessed him to be a Hawk Mountain regular from before the Veil or Volcano taking the New Whelps here for basic flight training. The good boots and pants and wool-lined jacket showed someone who enjoyed the outdoors; the quality of them, someone willing to spend money on it. His features were mostly East Asian, black hair and blue eyes, very neat in his grooming. He lowered the binoculars to refocus them. “I can't make them out for sure. They seem to have been pretty badly rattled by dad and the rest.”

“Sometimes I'm pretty badly rattled by them,” Bram said. “And I live with one. The black-scaled lady named Cynthia. House-mates only,” he said in response to the man's disgusted look. “A friend of my mother from the Topton home.”

“Oh,” The man raised his binoculars to watch his now scaly father as he and the rest soared above. “Your mom's there?”

“No. Dead.” Bram shivered again, but it had nothing to do with the cold. “Mom died right before the Conversion Bureaus opened up. Right before.”

He watched as Cynthia, the sunlight reflecting off of her black scales and gold wing membranes, dropped in a dive with wings tucked in before she unfolded them and flew just above the treetops, leaves magnificent in their crimson and orange and gold. Her laughter snatched at his ears as she flew overhead, loud but still human enough. He remembered how she'd hated using her canes to get around the home, and her first excited words upon coming out from the room where the Equestrian pony clinic staff fed you the potion. All grinning fangs and delighted now-golden eyes and those oddly graceful digitigrade legs working under her. She'd all but danced across the floor. I can walk, and it doesn't hurt any more!

If his mother had lived just a few more weeks, maybe just one... He sighed and remembered what Mom usually told him when things went wrong. Life goes on, will it or not.

Unless you didn't want it to go on any more.

“Oh. Uh, sorry about that.” Looking uncomfortable, the man stepped away and resumed watching. Bram just felt relief he didn't ask any more questions. He checked his watch. They'd been up there for a couple of hours, doing Volcano's drills. Better hope they finish soon so Cynthia and I can get in to work on time before we take the last of her stuff back home.

He glanced over at a parked pair of large trucks. Normally they wouldn't be allowed up here, it was park vehicles only. But the clinic convinced them they were needed, both for the instructor when he wanted to ride and for the gems the New Whelp dragons would eat after their lessons. Its human driver stood nearby, wearing the uniform of the clinics with its sun-and-moon insignia on one sleeve and the hoof over a hand insignia on the other and a handgun holstered at his waist. The clinics took no chances with those piled gemstones. Beside him stood one of the Equestrians, an actual pony, a rough-looking pegasus named Iron Wing who gave Bram the general impression of being ex-military. There was the same sense of controlled discipline he remembered from his uncles, all ex-Marines and Army. The faint scarring along the pegasus' flanks and the burn-scarred leg didn't hurt the impression. A small pile of heavy cloth bags lay behind them both on the ground.

Iron Wing watched the New Whelps high overhead with a grim expression.

“All those dragons,” Bram heard him mutter, not for the first time. “Millions of them all eventually. Where are they going to live and who, what are they going to eat in a few decades?” He noticed Bram's attention. The pegasus looked at him coldly, wings ruffling and muscles working under his coat. Bram turned away. Ponies might be peaceable on the whole but he felt Iron Hoof might be an exception. Angering that pegasus, or any pony, didn't strike him as a good idea. They were powerful for their size.

Bram got the idea the pegasus didn't much like the idea of so many humans becoming dragons. Then again he might not either if he was going to be around in a century or two when most of them, currently human size, hit their first growth spurt and increased to Volcano's fifteen feet long. Let alone if they all lived to hit maximum size of fifty to sixty feet or more. Much more. Volcano had boasted of the ex-Dragon Lord Torch, recently replaced by his daughter. He was the size of a small mountain. Volcano had sniffed when Bram asked him if he meant big like the local Pennsylvania mountains. Not these molehills, human. Real mountains, like walls rising up from the world's belly as high as Blue Sky above, like the walls Tiamat Herself set around the First Lair until her hatchlings were ready to see the world she made for them. Bram felt amusement to think that he'd probably learned more about dragon religion and culture from that exchange than some experts had in the almost two years since the Veil appeared.

Maybe he'd learned more than anyone would before it covered the whole world and ended humanity. At least the ones like him who either couldn't or wouldn't let their humanity be stripped from them. Not for a new world coming after that held nothing for them.

“Here they come!”

Volcano and the New Whelps dropped to earth, wings thumping like great sails as they folded. Bram and the others stepped back. Even through the stone and dirt of Hawk Mountain he felt the heavy thudding of their impact. The sun shined on scales and wing membranes of every color, off golden and ruby and emerald eyes and gleaming fangs. Most of the dragons were nude beyond small money belts with zipped pouches, but nothing showed on their new forms. Or not much. By now Bram could not only pick out the individuals – the highly variable scale colors helped – but also to learn that the ones with roughly squared builds were male and the ones with curved builds were female. Nothing like a human woman's build. No breasts, for one thing, but you could see where they'd once had them. Several hurried to whatever relations or friends were waiting for them, moving with much greater assurance on their digitigrade legs than when they first changed. One muscular blue and green dragon went to Wool Jacket.

“Dad,” the human said. He turned to the table with the coffee and handed him one of the mugs set aside for the dragons. It was shaped like a gravy boat, with a long spout so the dragons could pour the contents into their muzzles. Blue-and-green snatched up the coffee, poured the near ink black stuff into the mug, and took a swig.

“Tastes better than anything we had in Vietnam,” his voice rumbled like thunder trying to be polite. He looked around defiantly as though daring someone to challenge him. Bram simply nodded his politest back. The New Whelps were still mentally mostly the humans they'd been, but looking like you were challenging one was still foolish. Volcano and the bureau pamphlets warned that while they weren't as aggressive as Trueborn dragons, they were still fiercer than as humans.

Wait, where's Cynthia?

“Hey, Bram!”

He looked up just in time to see Cynthia drop down, last of the – flock? She took the landing badly and stumbled forward several steps right into him. Bram braced and caught her like he expected to meet a football tackle. She still almost bowled him off his feet. Cynthia stood a few inches shorter than him, taller than her human form. But her transformed bones and flesh and scales made her and every other dragon almost twice the weight of any Earth-born creature their size.

Cynthia puffed like a steam engine as she folded her wings.

“Cynthia, you're okay?”

“Fine!” She grinned and looked skywards. “Bram, I was flying. Myself. Just me and the sky. A month ago I needed help to get to the bathroom some days. My God, this is wonderful!” She gave him a friendly squeeze. Draconic body heat enveloped him and drove out any chill even as draconic strength left his ribs creaking. He managed not to gasp for air when she let go. “Oh, sorry. Guess I still don't know my own strength sometimes.”

A shadow loomed as a wave of sudden heat spilled over them both, hotter even than Cynthia or the other dragons.

“Then learn it, whelp,” Volcano rumbled. Bram stepped back; dragons found it insulting for him or anyone to stand between a New Whelp and their instructor. The one time he'd forgotten Volcano just snorted at him, hard. No fire, but still strong enough to knock him back and hot enough to make him feel scorched.

If Volcano noticed him he gave no sign. “New Whelps,” Volcano said in his instructor's voice, loud and echoing across the ridge, “you saw what Cynthia did and did not do. Remember always, you are not the humans you once were. Thankfully. Your bones and muscles and flesh are magically reinforced by the gems we eat.” He picked up the cloth bags from the clinic staff and tossed them one after the other to the whelps. Iron Wing and the human guard stiffened slightly. Bram wondered if they were more worried about hungry dragons or about what would happen to them if someone made off with some of those gemstones.

The New Whelps licked their lips, even Cynthia. Long forked tongues tasted the air. The New Whelps grabbed and opened the bags to reveal the contents. Ice-white diamonds and grass-green emeralds and sky-blue sapphires, enough to ransom a city in each bag. They were tossed into draconic mouths, crunched and swallowed like so much rock candy, gone in moments. Only then did Iron Wing and his human partner relax.

“You are stronger than humans. You can fly. Well, some of you can,” Cynthia looked down and grinned shamefaced, “and you have the gift of fire.” Volcano tilted his head back on his long neck and lived up to his name. Flame roared from between his jaws, crimson and wild and alive, shooting almost a hundred feet into the sky. The heat blasted against Bram. He took another step back, feeling the sweat suddenly springing out over his face. Volcano looked back at the New Whelps. “You must be careful as long as you live among members of your former species. It is entirely too easy to injure them by accident.” One or two of the dragons suddenly looked embarrassed. Bram noticed the humans with them took a step back. Volcano continued. “This disgraces you and all of us before the ponies. So you will not do it. Dragon Lord Ember has said so, and she will be obeyed.” Volcano said it like he was telling them the sun rose in the east. He looked around again, his eyes golden torches. “And you, humans, remember how dangerous your changed kin are now. They are young by our standards, and not very powerful as yet, but that will change. Some of you let them live in your lairs. Good. Dragons respect kin ties. But remember,” he raised one claw like any lecturing teacher, “dragons are proud. Independent. We stand on our own and reject luxury. They must find their own lairs soon. Respect them and,” he smiled like a shark, “I hope you join them, us, before the end of all your kind.”

Only after all that did Volcano turn to the small spouted bucket of hard-brewed coffee set aside for him. He picked it up and slowly drained it off. With a hiss of deepest pleasure he set it back down.

“Dragons reject luxury but they'll take coffee,” Cynthia whispered to Bram. Half-hidden grins on the muzzles of some of the other New Whelps showed they'd heard her too.

“Some last things.” Volcano held up one hand and counted off on his claws. “You have graduated. You know the basics of flight.” Bram heard the emphasis on 'basics' before the New Whelps cheered. Volcano lashed his tail against the rocks with a low boom and they fell silent. “You have also been taught how to breathe fire and how to control the instinct – remind your human kin that unexpected surprises can prove hazardous...”

Bram looked at Cynthia. She folded her wings in close. “Sorry about that. It was an old rug anyway.”

Volcano cleared his throat with an explosive rumble. “You will still be given bags of gems for several weeks, until your scales are as hard and your fires as hot as they ought to be for dragons of your size. You will have to return to the clinics to get them. Afterwards there will still be gems at the clinics, but you must pay for them.” Some of the New Whelps and their human relations looked worried at that. Volcano rolled his eyes. "They will be sold to you cheaply. Gemstones are plentiful in Equestria. Not like this world."

That reminded Bram of something.

“Are armed robbers really hitting some of the New Whelps after getting their weekly gem supply? I mean,” Bram hurriedly added as Volcano scowled at him, “have any dragons been robbed like the news has said?”

“You said we were to avoid hurting people,” Cynthia spoke up. The other New Whelps also looked at Volcano for his response. “What do we do if someone tries robbing us of those gems?”

“If some human with a gun or knife tries robbing you?” Volcano smiled savagely, showing fangs like swords. He picked up a nearby stone about the size of a man's chest. Bram guessed it to weigh in at somewhere between seventy and eighty pounds. Volcano made a fist. There was a cracking noise. Gravel poured between his claws. He repeated himself. “If they try robbing you? You are a dragon. Defend yourself. Defend your hoard.” Volcano opened his claw and let dust blow away. “Leave them for the carrion birds.” It would have sounded like a brag from anyone else. From Volcano, it was a statement of fact.

He looked over the crowd. “Also, to celebrate your accomplishments, there will be a party tonight at the,” he scratched along his horns and frowned, “the 'Steel Stacks' in Bethlehem. Other Equestrian dragons will be there. They will see how well you have learned. They will show you something of what we are.” He nodded at Bram and the rest. “Your human family can come as well, if you want them there.” He smirked. “They should know, however, that this will be a party by and for dragons. Accommodations for them may be lacking.” Volcano turned to the piled bags. Only two remained. He picked both up, tilted his head back on his long neck, and upended them over his muzzle. Glittering stars fell into his open maw. Those jaws snapped shut, echoing around the clearing like a gunshot. Bram wondered what it would be like to be caught between them as they closed. He hoped he never learned.

“Remember,” Volcano said as he dropped the bags beside the Conversion Clinic truck. “Tonight at the Steel Stacks. I hope to see you all there, my fellow dragons.” With that he crouched and leaped into the sky. Mighty wings snapped out and caught the air, beat furiously, sounding like sails caught in a high wind. Volcano wheeled and dipped in farewell, and flew off north and east for Bethlehem and the center.

Most of the other dragons also took to the air and flew after Volcano. Family members stared after them as they vanished into the sky in all directions.

“Dad, please come back with us,” Wool Jacket said to the blue and green dragon. He took his father by the shoulder. “The family, we, we'd like to give you a little party before tonight. Abby and Aiden want to see you. They've been telling everyone at school about their grand-dad the dragon...”

“They'll see me,” Blue said, walking up to the edge of the ridge. “Tomorrow. I have work for the rest of today before the party tonight. Electronics and books don't load themselves onto airships for Equestria. Besides, that ride of yours," he nodded at a new-looking SUV nearby, "feels kind of cramped.” He took off, called back, “Tomorrow, I promise,” and was gone flying down the valley along the ridge. Wool Jacket just looked after him and walked back to his SUV, hands in pockets and head hanging.

“I hope they remember to stay low,” Cynthia rustled her wings as she looked after the fliers. “The pegasus ponies at the clinic were pretty firm about that, and so was Volcano. They didn't want anyone flying into another plane from ABE.”

“I can imagine,” Bram muttered. “Well, I guess that's it,” Bram turned to Cynthia as she looked after Volcano. He took a moment to admire the smooth black and golden scales, her golden horns tilting back from her head, and those half folded warm leathery wings. They were among the last ones in the clearing. Everyone else was leaving. A bare handful of dragons with still-human family or friends called goodbye and promised to see her later. “Shall we be leaving, Dian the Beautiful?”

“What? Ugh!” Cynthia put her face in her claws and groaned as they walked over to his weather-beaten compact. He held the door open and pulled the seat forward for her. She carefully folded her wings tight against her back and six feet of black and gold dragon slithered into the back seat. “I never should have told you my father liked Burroughs so much he named me after one of his characters! I'm just glad Mom didn't let him name me Dejah Thoris Dian Stoltz like he wanted. Hey, wait, is my stuff in the back?” She stuck her neck out the window and looked back at the trunk. “I don't want to have to go back to Topton again.”

“Yeah, it is. I got it all last night.” Bram said as he opened the trunk. It was there, her carryall, but just to keep peace he took it out and showed it to her. Cynthia opened it and they both saw her few remnants of eighty years of life as a human: an old WorldCon con book, a single novel by both Norton and McCaffrey, both autographed; photos of her and her long-gone husband at their wedding; her in the mentioned convention costume; and her with his mother in their room at Topton. He hurriedly put that one back in and held the costume photo out. “You showed me those photos of yourself at one of the 1950's Worldcons. You made a lovely Burroughs cavewoman.” He walked back to his door, keeping an innocent look on his face as he got in. “Of course now you look more like a Mahar.”

“Better watch it, human,” she hissed in mock menace. She leaned forward and her muzzle poked up beside him. Hot air blasted his face as she said, “I'm a dragon now. For all you know I might eat you one night.”

“I'd be bad for your health.” He started the car up and began the drive down the long and winding road leading back to Hawk Mountain Road, then 143 South to I-78 East. Bram felt he could drive this route in his sleep by now after almost three months of taking it back and forth four times a week. “And what's so bad about Topton? They treat their people well.”

“It's an old folks' home.” Cynthia shuddered. “It feels, felt, like you're sent there so your family doesn't have to watch you die --”

The car screeched to a stop before Bram even knew he was putting his foot on the brake. A sharp hiss sounded behind him.

“Bram, I'm sorry I brought that up.” Cynthia squeezed his shoulder. Her claws felt sharp through his jacket. “I knew your mother. She knew that wasn't what you and your sister did. She told me more than once.”

“Yeah,” he said a moment later. He looked at her in the mirror. Would he have still loved his mother if she'd turned into what Cynthia was and would become? Why wouldn't he? “But if she could have held on just one more month...”

“She fought her way back from death's door three times,” Cynthia's voice was gentle. She touched his shoulder again, lightly brushed one claw against his cheek. It felt dull but he'd seen it slice stone as smoothly as a razor blade. “I didn't understand how or even why she did it those last few times. There was nothing left in her but the instinct to survive. And it wasn't doing her any good by that point.”

“Yeah,” he finally said as he sent the car forward. There was still an emptiness inside. “I still hate it, though.” Silence stretched on uncomfortably. “Uh, Cynthia, mind if I turn the radio on?”

It was mostly local news and some music. As usual these days the main news topic was the Clinics, the Veil, and the Equestrians. The local Conversion Clinics were converting more Diamond Dogs and dragons now; griffons were also up though ponies were still staying popular. Armed robbers struck one of the trucks delivering gemstones to the local clinics for New Whelps and the human guards had been non-fatally shot. The robbers escaped with almost a hundred pounds of bagged Equestrian gems. A resupply of potions for New Whelps and New Griflets had been smashed in the process.

“I wonder where they'll sell those stones,” Bram mused as he kept an eye on the traffic. “I thought most honest jewelers were agreeing not to touch Equestrian gemstones. Something about trying to damage the economy?”

“Like they can tell the difference by looking,” Cynthia snorted. “And their real worry is ruining the inflated prices they put on those stones. Gems are still gems, be they Terran or Equestrian. They're instant money almost anywhere.” She fell silent as the radio announcer spoke more about the robbery.

“But local Clinic staff has promised that this will not affect any New Whelps, and they are already sending a report and request for restock through the Veil to Equestria,” the speaker, maybe a pony themselves by the tone and timber of their voice, said. “Local police are accepting help from the Equestrian authorities to track down the robbers. They assure the public that there is no reason to believe this is any terrorist activity related to either the PER or HLF, but ask local New Whelps and other convertees to remain careful. And now a word from a new sponsor.” A harsh griffon voice came on. “Hey, New Griflets! Griffonstone is paying top bits for anygriff with technical or engineering and tech-nol-o-gy-related skills,” they worked slowly through those unfamiliar words, “to move to Griffonstone! No use lying, Griffonstone's a mess and we need all the help we can get! But we were great once and we're gonna be great again just as soon as you join your flockmates back home and bring that knowledge with you! Noble titles are a possibility so if you and your mate and cubs ever wanted to be called 'Duke' or 'Baron' here's your chance!”

“Ugh, turn that off!” Cynthia shook her head. She slumped back in her seat, worked around a bit to try and get her wings and tail comfortable, and gave up with a growl. “Or change it to music, anyway! I get so sick of those griffon ads.”

“Maybe if more Equestrian nations gave expats a chance like that conversion would go over better,” Bram watched the road. For once Route 378 seemed devoid of both PennDOT work crews and careless drivers. The Hill-to-Hill bridge was coming up, and after that the bookstore. “Or don't the dragons back in Equestria want the same thing as the griffons?”

“Not according to Volcano.” Cynthia deepened her voice. “'Dragonkind has lived perfectly well without these modern human gewgaws for millennia, and Tiamat grant will continue to do so'.” She sighed. “Some of the other New Whelps want to move to the Dragonlands, live with 'their own kind'. I asked them when the rest of humanity stopped being their own kind, but to be fair most of them don't have anyone left.” She sniffed. “I doubt I'd like it. No books for one thing. And it's basically a tyranny, even if Dragon Lord Ember is as decent as they say.”

“I thought it was an anarchy from what I've read.”

“It's kind of both. According to Volcano, dragons normally do whatever they please but if the Dragon Lord commands you have to obey regardless of your own desires.” She looked out the window. “Anyway, here we are.”

The Moravian Book Store sat on their right. Bram absently ran through the directions in his head. A few blocks down, past the bagel joint and that Irish store, take the turn at the Sun Hotel now with a picture of Celestia outside of it, and put the car in the parking garage.

“It's such a pain getting into and out of that thing,” Cynthia growled after he helped wrestle her out of the car.

“Why not fly there?” Bram asked. “The other dragons fly everywhere.”

“I don't know, maybe I like going with you?” Cynthia just smiled and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. It felt dry and hard, like it was covered with armor. Bram supposed it was at that. “Been a long time since I had young men around me who didn't have thermometers in their hands.”

They hurried in to work along with the rest of the late-morning crowd. They were mostly human, muffled against the Autumn chill. A few ponies trotted along, unicorns and Earth ponies either intent on their business or looking around in interest. One Earth pony pair, a brown-coated stallion with a pompadoured mane and a light pink mare with a styled mane, seemed fascinated. The pink-coated filly with them looked more bored. Tourists from Equestria, Bram thought. He nodded at them as he passed. Their eyes were wide as they looked from him to Cynthia and hurried on their way. He heard the mare saying to her stallion, “It still feels so odd to see so many species all together like this.”

More than ponies were out. Some Diamond Dogs could be heard barking excitedly down the street. Bram and Cynthia passed by the local bagel restaurant. A deer in clothes that tried a little too hard to look working class shook their head at a posted ad about the New Whelp celebration at the Steel Stacks. Or maybe just at the line about 'barbecued meat.' A pair of nearby local college boys in Lehigh University jackets discussed it excitedly. They flashed broad grins as the nude Cynthia strolled by. When Bram scowled at them, they laughed and swaggered away.

“Now, don't be jealous.” Cynthia laughed as Bram frowned. “I wonder how they'd react if they knew my real age?”

A dark-furred and feathered griffin couple with their two human children went walking past. The kids were black, and he guessed the parents to once have been too by their Harpy Eagle heads and foreparts. It was rare but occasionally human ethnicities played a role in the features of the converted. Though Bram knew of a Scots-Irish New Foal zebra, so who knew?

The smaller child, a girl, rode her mother's back while the boy walked alongside his father, both griffins going quad and wearing saddlebags. The girl delightedly drummed her heels against her mother's side. Her mother looked less pleased. The boy was asking his father for something.

“Why can't sis and I get the potion, dad? Danny at school changed when his parents went pegasus, now he flies into the schoolyard every day and everyone thinks he's hot shit --”

“Hey! Language!” The male griffin looked at his son, scowling and raising his crest in irritation. “You and your sister will wait until you're sixteen or if the Veil comes sooner, and not before! And where the buck did you learn to talk like that?”

“From you since you and Mom became griffins.”

Together with the griffins Bram and Cynthia dodged aside as Diamond Dogs raced past, barking a conversation back and forth. The dogs leaped over one man in business clothes reading outside the bagel place, sending his paperwork flying. The griffins squawked after the Diamond Dogs while a passing unicorn helped the man with his papers.

“Just another quiet day in downtown Bethlehem, heart of the Pennsylvania Dutch in the Lehigh Valley,” Bram dryly commented as they walked into the bookstore. “Sometimes I wonder if I've stepped into a city scene from Star Wars.”

“Not enough Jawas stripping landspeeders for that,” Cynthia responded as she closed the door behind her. The bell hanging above it rang loudly as it shut. She snorted, smoke rising from her muzzle. “I swear they put that bell on just to make sure no one can sneak out.”

“It works, too.” Their manager stood before them. She pointed at Cynthia and then at the nearby hanging employee smocks.

“Ms. Stoltz, smock, now,” Cynthia growled but put one on. The manager said, “Don't you go growling at me. This ain't no nudist colony, not yet. You two are mine until four, so I'll thank you to get to work.”

Bram waited until the manager left before saying, “So, you'll be getting yourself to that dragon party tonight? Or will you need a ride?”

“A ride might be best,” Cynthia flapped her wings once, sending a breeze rustling around the room. “I still don't feel up to long-distance travel with these, especially at night. And, well,” she lowered her head, sounding almost nervous. “I'd like to have you there.”

“With you?” She nodded. “As your, your date?”

“Unless they have a new word for it?” Cynthia headed for the storeroom. “See you later, we'll have a new shipment arriving today and they need their power lifter.” She stopped at the door, turned, smirked and flexed one arm. Bram mock-gasped in awe. Cynthia laughed and went inside. As she did Bram frowned.

Mom could have been like that, strong and healthy again. If she'd lived. But she's gone, my family's changed or gone away, and all I have left is – what?

Someone nearby cleared their throat. Bram turned to see the manager make a motion with her head to the front registers. With a sigh he got to work.

The day was thankfully busy and passed quickly. At shift's end Bram waited by the door for Cynthia. This late in the year, the sun was already headed for the horizon. The buildings cast long shadows and the chill cut into him. He huddled into his jacket and watched as the by now all human crowd hurried home from work. Everyone seemed to be hurrying these days. Well, every human. Then again it wasn't like they had a lot of time left.

Hard driving wingbeats sounded overhead as half a dozen pegasi flew over, looping and wheeling and laughing. Three were nude, maybe Equestrians here on vacation or working in the conversion clinics. The other half wore t-shirts roughly reworked to make them fit their owners' new bodies. Two stooped and dove at the crowd, pulling a wind along with them, snatching newspapers from hands and hats from heads. Bram caught sight of one as it flew over him, the shirt bearing the word HUMANITY with a large X over it.

“Watch it!” He yelled at them as they dove low enough to make him duck. The pegasi jeered. Bram's temper tipped over. “This look like the race track to you? This is a city street!”

“Put a sock in it, pal! You're talking to the future, dinosaur!” With a laugh the sky-blue and white-maned and tailed pegasus flew after his friends down Main Street, swinging wide to take the turn by the Old Moravian Church at its end. Mocking laughter echoed back along the street.

But then why not, a cold voice asked inside him. The Veil is coming and humanity is on the way out. They'll get to live in their new forms. Them and those like them, not all of us but most, new races playing amidst all humanity built. I wonder if their grandkids will go to the museums and ask what the humans were? Or will they just put all the literature and sculpture and books away and let it molder in the dark while they fly and sing and play atop our bones?

He shook himself. Oh, stop being dramatic. Remember what those Princesses and other rulers of theirs said. They should save nearly everyone. And no taking territory, no colonies or commanding their 'new loyal subjects' to overthrow our governments. While they're still human governments, anyway.

I hope the New Foals and Whelps and Griflets all read the memo, though. Or that I'm long gone before it becomes something to worry about.

“Hello, thoughtful.” Cynthia popped up beside him. A cold breeze blew across them. She stretched her wings out and a sudden burst of warmth from her dispelled the chill. “My, but you look grim. I hope whatever bothered you wasn't too bad.”

“Just a few pegasi being jerks,” Bram walked back to the car with her. They took the longer way around to avoid the little streets that ran between the offices and hotels. Some of the side streets were already getting dark. Bram remembered those news reports of robberies from that morning. Though it'd take a desperate or well-armed robber to try taking a dragon on. He glanced sidelong at Cynthia, whose smile made her look immune to any worries. It also exposed gleaming fangs capable of biting through diamonds, and the lean muscles that stretched and pulled under her scales that gave her the strength to lift more than her own mass. He remembered some scientists, human and Equestrian, giving reasons involving Equestria having a higher gravity and greater density than Earth so the species that developed there were stronger and tougher than their Terran equivalents. “The dragoness from Krypton.”

“What's that?” Her eyes glittered at him. He explained. She stretched again, yawned widely. “Really? I always preferred Hugo Danner to Clark Kent.”

“Clark was usually the happier one, as I recall.” And Danner was intended to be the first of a new breed of humans replacing the old ones, just like you – oh, control yourself! “Can you bounce bullets like he did?”

“I don't know,” Cynthia's smile faded. She scratched her chin, producing a sound like metal scraping. “Volcano warned us that it might be as much as a year before we reached the normal strength and toughness we ought to possess, mostly because we didn't spend our lives consuming gemstones...”

“Thoughtless of you,” Bram said as they reached the car. She gave a hiss of equal parts annoyance and amusement. Once again the rigmarole of making room for her, getting in and then heading for the highway and home. “So you can get hurt as easily as me?”

“Not really,” Cynthia said from the back seat. He heard her growl and the sound of her scales and tail dragging against the seat as she tried to find a comfortable position. Something slapped heavily against one door with a loud bang. “Blasted tail! Anyway, Volcano said it'd take high-powered ammunition or something as strong as one of us to chance serious injury. And of course something hitting us in the eyes is as dangerous for a New Whelp as for anyone. Or chemical weapons I guess. You know, pepper spray and stuff like that. Though Volcano told us that napalm or white phosphorous just makes a dragon feel warm. He says dragons back home in the Dragonlands sometimes dive into molten lava for fun.”

“Sounds like a pleasant neighborhood.” After that a quiet trip home. He pulled into the driveway. The house looked the same as ever, older than the USA, thick stone walls and small glass windows on the ground floor in the old part and modern construction for the second floor and everything else. His many times over great-grandfather Siegfried may not have been able to leave his family much, but he left them a fine home. Bram opened the door for Cynthia, then got her bags from the trunk and accompanied her to the front door. “You said those gems make your scales stronger. What about your fire? I hope it doesn't get much hotter.” He glanced at a trash can and the scorched remains of a carpet hanging over its side.

“I apologized for that rug already!” She stomped her claw. “Like you never made any mistakes. Anyway, my fire needs to get stronger too. Right now I might be able to scorch someone but Volcano says I, all of us, should be able to melt steel in a year. Some New Whelps are planning to get jobs as welders by then.”

“How about yourself? Going to be Rosie the Riveter with scales?”

“Nah, I'll stay with the bookstore. I always liked being a bookworm.” She smiled at his groan. “Anyway, I need to be getting ready for the party, so if you don't mind?” She walked off to the lower floor bathroom. A few moments later the sound of running water came from the bathroom.

“Try not steaming the bathroom all up again, please.” Bram called. Cynthia's raspberry sounded back at him.

He hoped for a few quiet hours while Cynthia got ready for everything tonight. Bram was curious to see a dragon celebration; hopefully it didn't end with the Stacks being burned down. Now to wait. But first some food, and then a good book and his most comfortable chair.

After the mail.

Looking in the box elicited a groan. It contained a small package plastered with stamps, both Equestrian and American. It was also done up with yellow and pink ribbons. He knew who this was from. He hesitated, decided he might as well get through with it, and opened the box.

Cool crimson fire washed over his hands and face as he opened it, emitted by the hand-size gemstone within. He carefully reached in and the removed the stone.

“Hi big brother!”

A ray of fiery light shot out from it to the center of the room. It increased in size, glimmered, and became the figure of a pink-coated and yellow-maned unicorn. Her mane hung in braids with gemstones worked in them and she wore a dress. Very lacy and frilly, but plain by pony standards.

“Hi Becky,” Bram sighed out as he set the ruby down. He turned and looked for something for dinner. Unfortunately the fridge was almost empty; Cynthia had been hitting it pretty hard. Her still-changing body needed more than gemstones to grow. She told him one of the smaller pleasures about the change was her being permitted to eat what she wanted again. “So, how is everything back in Magic Horse Land?”

“Everything's great with me!” Becky said, almost bouncing for joy. This wasn't her, of course, this was a recorded message playing with her voice and image. It responded to his words but that was it. “It's wonderful here, the Equestrians are eager to learn about modern technology. Princess Twilight wants to set up their own computer network. It's a bit hard to work it with hooves but,” the image smirked as the horn glowed, showing her picking up half a dozen small rods which then tapped out a beat against the wall nearby, “that's not a problem for me, of course. Poor Earth ponies and pegasi aren't so lucky, more's the shame. I'm on the team working with Princess Twilight herself.” Her voice turned smug as she arched her equine neck, proud as some performing Lipizzaner. “She comes and asks me how to set everything up in her palace. I get to tell her what to do. And I'm making a mint doing it; these speaking-spell gems cost an arm and a leg to send back home.” She stopped smiling for a moment. “I hope you appreciate that.”

“Which is what would matter the most to you,” Bram sighed as he pulled an iced coffee from the fridge. A liverwurst sandwich joined it. Truly a meal for royalty. He sank into the old sofa Cynthia used for her bed. It smelled vaguely like a zoo's snake house with a hint of rotten eggs. “How's everything with your pony boyfriend?”

“Oh, and things are going great with Duke Brightflame,” she sighed and looked dreamy, clasping her hooves before her. The image of a unicorn stallion with a red-brown coat and crimson mane and tail joined hers. He looked proud, head held high and horn flashing. His flank bore a crown and crossed scepters on it. Becky gave it a delighted look. “He's such a gentleman. I mean gentlestallion. I work with him every day on linking Equestria up, Twi – I mean Princess Twilight has been working on a spell-driven wireless link back to Earth across the Veil. We need to use magic, electronics work just fine in Equestria but they'd be shorted out going across the Veil unless they're in those For-a-day Cages...”

“Faraday Cages,” Bram muttered in exasperation. “How can someone get computers and not know that?” Becky's image went on, the same as she would if she'd been standing there in person.

“But then I guess you know that, right? I mean, you have some education. Not as much as me, but you did all you could.” Bram fought down a desire to pitch the empty coffee bottle through the smug image. “Anyway, I'm getting married to Brightflame soon --”

He choked and sprayed his dinner. It was so like her in-person behavior that he glanced up to be sure she wasn't physically there. The amused equine whicker and the look of superiority in her eyes left him wondering.

“I wanted it to be a surprise! You'll have a brother in law soon! Oh, when you change – I mean, you won't really just sit around and let the Veil kill you like you were saying when Mom died, right? Brightflame said anyone who did that was a silly fool and he'd never want to be related to such a creature, but of course he knows you won't do that...”

Bram wondered how much glue you could make out of a unicorn duke.

“Well, anyway, when you convert and become a pony, he said he'll find a place for you in his staff. I asked his major dumbo --”

“Majordomo!” Bram rubbed his aching head. How did Becky do this when she wasn't even in the same dimension as him?

“And he said he'd have to know what you can do and I said you're not good for much besides physical labor, really you shouldn't have turned down college to help with Mom and Dad, so then he said he'd be able to take you on as one of Brightflame's cart ponies. Oh, that means you'd be dressed in some adorable livery and get to take Duke Brightflame and me around Canterlot. So at least you won't starve or anything.” She looked off to the side, scowling before looking back at him with a smile. “Ugh! Starlight, that's Princess Twilight's flunky, she needs me for something. I'll have to cut this message short. So be good and I love you and I hope you're not sleeping around with that lizard you said you took in because, really, you know what that would do to my reputation if the other ponies found out I had a creepy brother?” She turned and looked off to the side again, her ears pinned. “I said in a minute, Starlight! I'm sending my brother a message here! Yes, the human one with the dragon! You will simply have to be patient and remember, I'm in charge of this project!” She looked back at him, all smiles again. “Anyway, bye, I'll send you pictures or something of the wedding, tell Mom I said Hi – whoops, sorry, I forgot, bye!” She flickered out and the gem went dark until he called on it again. It laid on the table like a burned out coal.

Bram walked to the table and picked it up, holding it so tightly he wondered it didn't crack.

“Little sister,” Bram flexed his fingers as though closing them around a throat, “when I remember how you strolled out on Mom when she begged for help in reaching the toilet, and left me to find her weeping on the floor, you better hope you never see me again.” He took the gem and slammed it down on the table. He felt childish irritation that it didn't break. Bram didn't relax, even when a scaled hand gently touched his back. The claws prickled through his shirt.

“Your sister?”

“Yeah,” Bram said, slumping. “Just being herself, the same as ever.” He turned. Cynthia's scales gleamed like obsidian in the sunlight coming through the windows. “I don't even know why I bother being angry with her. She couldn't see she'd done the family wrong if you made her.” He offered her the gemstone. “Hungry?”

Cynthia licked her scaly lips and put the gem in her mouth. Bram's words had activated the gem's message again, and Becky's remarks started to play as Cynthia crunched it between her fangs. It sounded like Cynthia was eating her, the garbled words mixing with a sound like gravel being crushed. Cynthia's eyes drifted half shut in delight as she tilted her head back and swallowed. A large bulge went down her throat. It reminded Bram of seeing a snake eat a whole bird. Cynthia belched, sending out a smell of sulfur. Her ear membranes closed slightly in embarrassment and she put one claw to her mouth.

“What happened to my manners! I never used to act like that.”

“I noticed Volcano is pretty, er...” Bram searched for a polite and accurate word.

“Blunt? Crude? Vulgar?” Cynthia said it for him. “He says dragons don't waste time on silly mammalian niceties, they have better things to do with their time.” She stretched like a great armored cat, claws splaying from her fingertips. “He's usually pretty blunt with us New Whelps. Says that mollycoddling new dragons won't do us any good.” She shrugged as she walked over to the sofa. “I have to agree, and I don't think that's just the new draconic part of me speaking.”

“Neither do I,” Bram said as she got up from the sofa and helped her pull it out into a bed. “Reminds me of Mom and Dad; our grandparents too, when they were still here. Though given they let me read all their old SF and horror and fantasy I can't complain.”

“Yeah,” Cynthia curled up on the bed and yawned widely, a long thick tongue curling out and up between her fangs. “Anyway, us old ladies turned young dragons need their beauty sleep. Wake me in time for the party.”

Bram headed for the stairs. He called back, “What if a homesick hobbit shows up asking for directions to the dragon's lair?”

“Tell him visiting hours are ten to twelve, alternate Saturdays, appointment with my secretary.” Her voice was thick and husky with sleep.

Bram took one last look. Smoke trickled from her nostrils as rumbling snores came from the curled up mass of ebony scales touched with gold on the bed.

“Sheer unmatched elegance,” he said dryly. Against the wall was a framed copy of the sole painting of his ancestor who'd founded Siegfried Station and later organized the local men into a unit for Washington.

“Ancestor,” he said to the stocky and scowling Dutchman, “I bet you never had to deal with this.” The picture, being a picture, did not respond.

To a chorus of draconic snores, Bram went upstairs to his bedroom, his books, and some earplugs.

Comments

[Vaalintine]

No time for mammalian stuff? I'd assume the human preoccupation with capitalism would be noted as having caught on more with the whelps, given it leads to money.

[Ardashir]

9435144
Not with the Trueborn dragons, as they tend to more of a 'pillage and plunder' economy than one where you make wealth by hard work or investments. They would rather either dig wealth from the earth with their own claws or take it from someone else by violence or threats. That's one of the things Ember is hoping the New Whelps will change about dragon society by making it less brutal and viciously competitive.

Some other dragons realize this and they're not happy about her plans.

[keroko]

I want to smack that little sister now. Or at least get her booted from that project (a letter to Twilight about how she treated her mother and treats Starlight should do). Few things can tick me off more than such casual disregard for family.

[Ardashir]

9763248
Yeah. If she shows up in the future she'll be even worse.