The War Machine

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. The first eggs fell to Earth as meteors more than fifty years ago. The locals who found them were overjoyed, thinking they'd had valuable space minerals land in their backyards. There was precedent for such excitement, certain space minerals were highly valuable in the defense and consumer electronics industries. As soon as the first egg went onto an online auction site, however, the Government got involved. They are usually quick to lay claim to things other people have already claimed ownership of. All told, three-hundred and fifty-two eggs were mapped and charted to have landed in the relatively small strip of land that became known as Dragon Alley.

The presiding Government quickly set to work attempting to uncover the chemical makeup of these meteorites, still not fully knowing what they contained. It took two elections, maintaining the same team of scientists for consistency's sake, for the first egg to hatch. One of the scientists was holding the meteorite close to her chest, when it started to flutter from the inside out and she dropped it in a moment of shock. The new Government had stationed soldiers inside the facility, to both safeguard the space minerals and to prevent any potential bribery of the scientists. These soldiers accused this scientist of intentional foul play, and were threatening to execute her behind the facility. Her life was only saved by the small and tender trilling of a Wyvern, a smaller species of dragon possessing only a pair of hind legs and a set of forewings. This tiny, extraterrestrial chicken stumbled out of its egg casing, looked up at the scientist's terrified face and screeched the most adorable little call to its imprinted parent. It would be several years before Doctor Madeline Vaux's Wyvern was big enough for her to even attempt to ride it, but in that time dozens of other eggs would hatch.

Doctor Madeline Vaux took very little pride in being bonded to her Wyvern, and hesitated to give it a proper name; She had always been a quiet, dedicated astronomer, indifferent to the growing market of pop science and the boisterous intellectual celebrities at its heart. "Science speaks for itself, it doesn't need a PR team," she would cynically quip whenever a colleague brought up a famous astronomer or botanist or geologist. Having this small, scaly thing select her as its mother brought a level of attention and scrutiny that she was far from comfortable with.

Still, attempts had begun to make the most of her bond with the Creature. She was at the very least, curious about this entirely new species that had arrived on Earth. The egg Doctor Vaux had been carrying was feather light, yet her Wyvern weighed a staggering two-hundred pounds at only a couple days old. A popular theory in the lab was that Doctor Vaux was secretly an extreme powerlifting enthusiast and could easily bench press over nine hundred pounds. Reality is far more mundane, unfortunately: The amniotic sac within the eggs is filled with a fluid rich in helium. The helium's low density counteracts the weight from a dragon's bone and muscle density. Further testing progressed quickly and smoothly, to everyone's surprise. As long as Doctor Vaux was present and kept a positive attitude, her hatchling complied with various pokes and prods with gusto.

Of course, the moment Government officials learned Doctor Vaux's bouncing baby was born weighing two-hundred pounds with a bulletproof hide, a pair of leathery wings, and talons that could shred titanium, they started drafting war games. "Please TELL me it breathes fire," the Secretary of War pleaded to no-one-in-particular, "If not, maybe it can shoot a beam of radiation, or shriek so loud it can rupture internal organs!" Spittle had started to accumulate in the corners of his mouth from all the excitement. The Head Treasurer rolled her eyes.

"Please, you really have a one-track mind, Carl." She craned her neck to catch each Council member's eyes. "Are we really going to squander the greatest scientific event in our life times, perhaps the most significant event in human history, on waging more ceaseless, and expensive, war? Haven't our citizens hung enough banners praising our conquest and celebrating our troops?" Her large, brown eyes moved slowly around the room, gauging other Council members' reactions. The Secretary of War's exasperated sputtering and sinking into his chair was to be expected. His office had always seemed to put glory and conquest before the health of the Country. You would spend every last cent destroying the world with these monsters, the thought nestled comfortably in her mind. The Secretaries of State and Interior both seemed keen to hear her position. "We've been studying what we thought were meteorites for almost a decade, and now this breakthrough! I can't in good conscience support a move to allocate more funds into just making these things weapons." A smug look of derision was shot her way by the Vice President as a slim smirk snaked across his face.

"'Wealth before Health,' I take it that's the order of the day yet again, Cassandra? Pinching pennies until you can afford to buy all the loyalty in the world." The Treasurer's eyes fell to her lap. "No, Carl is right. We must at the very least know what these creatures capabilities are. If they breathe fire, or some other such effect, perhaps we can use that to our strategic advantage. But in the event their mere being exudes radiation, or if they carry some sort of...virus...any threat their being poses to our citizens, the President wants it dealt with immediately. All eggs and hatchlings are to be terminated."