Orders Not Authorized (Vignette)

Western Weyr - Radio Room
A slightly cramped room with a large desk bearing a large multi-channel (HAM style) radio used for contacting other Weyrs, Holds, Crafthalls and even ships equipped with radio equipment. A shielded computer terminal sits on another desk across the room. Piles of reports are stacked here and there, maps cover the walls and a box of replacement parts is stuck in the corner. This looks like the nerve center of a modern working Weyr. It is manned by the Weyrwoman a lot, but sometimes other high ranking riders work dispatch in here.


« Are you supposed to be doing this? » Orraeloth's tone seemed uncertain, so unsure, that Liora frowned as she sat down at the desk and reached for the radio dial. That was not the way a senior queen was supposed to act.

"Yes dear," she replied, giggling a little — giddy with the anticipation of all those wonderful things she would get as Weyrwoman. It was her due after all. She was senior now, wasn't she? "It'sall right because Isay it's all right. We are the leaders after all. You rose, none of those other golds did. That's how it works. First gold to rise."

« I … » there's a long pause from the tawdry gold, « suppose that is how it works. But Miraneith and Shadhavarth — »

Liora sputtered, mouth forming into a pouty moue. "Your juniors," she insisted. She had to keep doing that. "You can tell them what to do."

« They will not listen. »

"I'll make them!" Liora insisted, trying to turn her thoughts — not that she had many — to the finer pleasures of life. "I've got things to do, Orry darling." Like ordering things.

Things like wines from Benden, furs from the High Reaches, delicacies of thew south and a new gown from the Weavercraft Hall. Things that would make her happy. Things that would make her pretty, and make her feel like she was really in charge. And she got her pleasure from signing off on each as Weyrwoman Liora.

A loud bellow reverberated through the Weyr, the roar of an angered dragon — no wispy dreaminess now — that was a dragon roused to fury.

« They are coming. » Orraeloth warned her.


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