Yggsdrasil
Chapter 9: Mesa - An Existential Crisis Conference
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The Kindred met in full assembly in the open auditorium atop the pinnacle of the Ark. Anamesh of the pale skin and the white hair, sat regally in attendance. This day she would speak for the races of Elves. She and her entourage sat in their clan’s skyloft. To her right in another ancestral skyloft attended Lennox and his crew. Lennox was the current representative and Patriarch of all the Dwarven Peoples. To her left in yet another skyloft of much different design lounged Mataidor of the Dragons . As was the custom of the Dragons he was alone. Directly across from Anamesh’s skyloft floated Aparosael of the sky manta's, docked to his mast. A swarm of other, smaller manta surrounded him ready and eager to provided any service.
Save the Elders all of the cognizant, sentient Kindred were physically present in the Auditorium. In their many thousands every adult Kindred was present. Such a meeting of the clans had not occurred since the Ark made planetfall a millennia or more ago. The proceedings were being transmitted throughout the station, even into the creche. What transpired would be in full knowledge, if not accordance of every cognizant individual.
The need was great other wise it wouldn’t have happened. It was risky gathering everyone in one spot, with no guards, no sentries. They needed a guard.
The Elders were providing that guard.
Far, far overhead and strategically spaced around the horizon the Elders had stationed themselves. They hovered at full alert. This day the Elders stood guard over their wards. Even so the Elders attended the assembly via virtual reality, and participated when need be. Nothing would get close to the Ark without the Elder’s knowledge.
"We have an existential crisis" began Mataidor of the Dragons. with characteristic bluntness. The Dragons cut right to the meat of any subject, wasting no time on social niceties. " The Ghouls have found us. They attacked one of our long distance patrols. It happened weeks ago and diametrically opposite of us on the other side of the Mesa.”
As Mataidor spoke a visual representation of what he described appeared before the host. Huge animations , large enough for the entire auditorium to see and understand ,clearly depicted what had transpired.
“A few hours ago the exhausted survivors of that patrol returned and gave their report. It’s been uploaded for anyone’s closer examination. Four of the members of the patrol died bravely during the attack. Two others were too badly injured to make the return flight at that time.. Those two remained aboard a Spirit-Elder." Mataidor continued. The audience murmured. Boarding a spirit-elder was not something done on a whim. Spirit-elders were considered sacred.
The centrally projected animations vanished and were replaced with a recording of what the Scouting Dragons had seen. Throughout the vast auditorium it seemed that everyone drew a deep breath. Their ancient foe from prehistory, their nemesis, the primeval enemy had found them. Those from whom they had fled generations earlier had finally caught up with them. The ARK was grounded. They could no longer run
There was no doubt there would be a fight. This fight they would either win or die trying.
Courses of action were presented and discussed. Plans were offered and discarded. The conference went on for days. The entire populace of the Ark was privy to the proceedings via virtual reality. Every detail was available to every citizen.
Finally after discussing evaluating all available data, after gaming all possible options, after running multiple computer scenarios, a course of action was decided upon.
Areas of the Ark were put back into service that had not been used since the landing. New mechanisms, new devices and terrible weapons were produced. For weeks manufacture, equipping and training continued at a breakneck pace around the clock.
A vast flying armada comprised of every elder, every adult manta and dragon prepared to carry death to the foe. It was Armageddon. It was the Apocalypse , it was total war. Kill or be killed. Their very existence depended upon the elimination of the invading threat.
An awesome formation departed the Ark. The huge living aerostats, the Elders were the strongest, and largest units with the greatest endurance. They carried the heaviest load. They formed the core. The Sky-Mantas were arrayed in formation around them. They were all connected with cables. In route and en rapport the flight effort would be equally shared. Those units not pulling would be pulled, they would trade off as needed. Sleep and other essential activities would occur with no slack in flight.
All that was left in the Ark were those kindred either too old, or too young to fight.
The Kindred formation flew hard for weeks. They pushed the average pace to fifty miles an hour. . The home Mesa was larger than the Pangea of Earths geological past and so it was that It took 250 days of round the clock effort before the enemy camp came into sight. Almost two years had passed since the dragon patrol had been ambushed.
The two dragons who had stayed behind were still doing their duty. They had observed the enemy the whole time. On ocassion they had even released giant arbalest bolts when sufficiently high value targets had been spotted. The Ghouls had no high altitude capacity so they could not retaliate. The two dragons harassed with impunity.
The formation dissolved and reformed. Everyone got a little bit of sleep.
They would attack at first dawn.
To be Continued
If you missed the start of this book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21