Chapter 43: The Ancient Iron Dwarf
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Korgan Janeksson was one of the handful of seniors. He and his fellow ancients were the only adults remaining in the Ark. They had listened politely to the report brought back by the child dragons, and now discussed it among themselves.

He and his peers were unsure what they could do. They were hoping to brainstorm the problem and come up with something. There were only young children and ancient dotards like himself remaining in the Ark. All of the other adults had gone to war long ago.

The Dragon Child had said that the enemy was approaching even so. Apparently the adult’s expeditionary force had been unsuccessful. For all the discussion, arguments and brainstorming among his fellow seniors he felt them all looking at him. He, alone, had anything approaching military experience. He was much, much older than anyone else on the Ark and knew this to be true. He’d watched everyone else in the room grow up.

The other’s were competent no doubt, but war was beyond their ken. The Kindred now living had not been in a war, ever. Only he retained any knowledge of the military arts. The rest were practitioners of other arts and sciences, but not war.

Korgan Janekson struggled to control his rebellious body. By all rights he should long since have died. He had intended to die some time ago but life had recently gone from the dull and boring to moderately interesting. Those poor boys who had been attacked by the invaders. He felt for them, “been there done that,” he had, although it had been SO long ago that no one really believed him any longer if he spoke of it. Just another tale by a delirious ancient.

Even so, he couldn’t in all good conscious leave his kith and kin while the crisis was upon them. He was holding out for as long as he could. Perhaps something would come up, perhaps he could be of some help in some way. If he just, bully his damn body into staying alive a little while longer.

He hated his rebellious body. It was so old, and a pitiful scrawny thing it was too. It wasn’t a patch on what he’d used to have been. His external self did NOT look at all like the internal picture he had of himself. His external body was old, ancient, and fragile. Nothing at all like the vibrant, cheerful, give ’em hell Dark Iron Dwarf in his mind’s eye.

Yet, and yet, he WAS over a thousand years old. Then again, perhaps he was over ten thousand. How many rejuvenations HAD he had anyway? He didn’t really want to remember. Social events, dates, anniversaries and birthdays were never his specialty. They were so depressing that he always forgot. He was more of a hardware kind of guy.

He’d been through a lot, and witnessed much more. He even remembered talk of the landing. He’d been borne shortly after the landing. Or perhaps those who he remembered had been. Some times with those early memories he couldn’t remember if they had happened to him or been told to him. He had been but a runny nosed toddler when the original crew was, as he was now, in their dotage. Even so, he’d hung onto their every word that they had said.

He’d personally known those who had descended in the Ark to it’s final resting place. That had been so very long ago. Unless he relented and took full scale rejuvenation again, he couldn’t live much longer. He had pushed this body long past it’s last overhaul. It couldn’t take much more. It was past it’s sell by date.

A Full Up Cellular Kinesthetic Maieutic Ensemble would turn him into a new man. That was right out. Just...no. He hadn’t wanted that for decades. Not since his wife of many centuries had died. Something had gone from his life with her. He no longer cared to continue living in her absence. He no longer had the zest for life he once had.

However, just because he no longer wanted to live forever, didn’t mean he wanted to die today either. He still felt he had a duty to the youngsters of today to carry on. He felt that way especially since the competent adults had gone to war and he was one of the very few seniors left on the Ark.

Now he had an opportunity to make a final contribution and he was unlikely to live through it.

Perfect.

“Young Herjar, please!” he whispered. A whisper was about all he could manage these days.

Herjar, however had ultra-keen hearing. The pre-adolescent dragon turned and bowed to the ancient with respect. All the other Seniors quit talking and strained to hear “Yes Balambaras. How may I help you?”

Korgan thought, now there was a nice polite young dragon female. She even knew his title. Most didn’t. That was so nice. “In times past I had certain responsibilities and held certain positions as you know. No one else in this room can say the same. That knowledge and those skills might be useful. If I can find a way to apply them. Please take me to the SkyFort.”

“Now please”. he whispered.

Herjar, not to mention the other ancients, was shocked to her core. However, shocked or not, acceding to the ancient Dark Iron Dwarve’s wishes was a given. She had not the least thought of refusal. Even though it would almost certainly be fatal to the ancient, she could do no less. It was his request. It would likely be his last request.

“One last thing before we go, dear.“ whispered the fragile ancient “Please get me my rod and my staff, they will comfort me on this final journey”.

Herjar was puzzled by that request but she complied with no question or hesitation. Even the child that she was she knew that STAFF was technoweenie bafflegab for a Secure Torrent Automatic Firmware Framework.

Those were merely multi-exabyte memory diamonds. They were read-only memory. The crystals were as common as dirt on the Ark. Everyone had one if not dozens, depending on their interests. Most people kept one as a personal diary. A VERY personal diary. A very detailed one too.

The rod was even more common. It was merely a multi-tool.

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