This is the History of Celestyn from the stop of the Dragonriders of Pern trilogy. Anne McCaffery is copyrighted with Pern. This site is by no means rewriting her work. Still, please note that site is spawned from ideas in Dragonquest, Dragonflight, and the White Dragon. Because not all of the members have read all of the books, only these three are engrained into the history, and the events in other books may not belong in this alternate-reality of Pern’s history.

Celestyn is speculation of how things would have gone given extreme circumstances. We appreciate Anne’s texts. Still, the Pern presented on this site is a world apart from the Pern of the series. All references to the books, out of character and in character, recognize that it was her work and not their own creation.

Please read all sections in their entirety, as you will be lost without them.

Early History

AIVAS promised destruction of Thread, but what occurred was a failed experiment. The Red Star was blown off its own orbit and vaulted into Pern’s. That meant no Intervals. However, the grubs that once lined the Southern Continent were eradicated once the plan of destroying the Red Star was developed, for some still couldn’t get used to the vermin being used for good. The only place they could be found was in small numbers at the southern pole, though how they survive the cold, no one knew. When removed to supplant the crops and forests of more northerly estates, they would perish within minutes. This lack of alternative defenses made dragons even more valuable. Of course, they were happy to accept the challenge. Numbers soared; Weyrs boomed.

Many dragonriders had lived in the South for a few decades by this point, and they liked the idea of becoming self-sufficient. Many Weyrs were built to accommodate the numbers. All the while, the North resented the freedom of the Southerners. They kept to themselves, however. That is, until new colors started popping up in the Southern Wings. How the dragons were producing these new colors was not public information. The North did notice how much more effective the new colors were at fighting Thread, however. That and their volatile personalities grated on the Northerner’s nerves. Northern Weyrs fell in numbers, each holding only two to three hundred riders.

There were many hardships in this limbo. Renegades had collected in the Western continent, raiding Weyr, Craft, and Hold alike. Then, at the turn of 5400, they simply stopped. Speculation arose, wondering if the renegades had died off. As time went on, the Renegades of Pern fell into myth. There were also volcanoes, earthquakes, and Northern pessimism. The tension became unbearable for both sides.

The technology of this age was little better than before. Through hydro-power, a makeshift heating/cooling system was made, though it was not reliable. Also, the new Southern Weyrs were made more comfortable for the riders: every weyr had a small bathing room. The Weyrs even had a single computer, ran on generator power. Their usefulness was not quite understood. That and they were dial-up slow. That was the full extent of innovation. The burden of Thread and the lack of cooperation between Weyrs, Crafts, and Holds held the planet from truly excelling.

In addition to the Northern Weyrs, there were five Southern ones: Luna, Southern, Celestyn, Fairlock, and Monaco Bay. Celestyn was the furthest South of any Weyr, therefore most looked down upon by the Northern Weyrs. Though, not all Northerners had those views. Only the Weyrleaders held the clandestine thoughts of their forefathers. As it was, the South had allowed the dragons to flourish and in some cases grow. Part of the Northerner’s objections was that the “mutant” colors degraded the draconic race, even though their dragons would hear no such thing from them. If they were to admit that the Southerners were normal, their meager Golds and Bronzes would be replaced with the larger Auroras, Nebulas, Eclipses, and Meteoroids within a generation. Thusly, all Northern Flights, even the non-Queens, were closed.

Geographically, Celestyn was too far South to receive the brunt of the heat. In fact, the climate was much like Terran’s Australia- where the seasons are flopped around. Snows were not uncommon, frosts coated the Weyr often, and rain was all too plentiful- for even though they got to escape the warmth, they were still tropical. Celestyn was a mostly self-sufficient Weyr. They harvested their own crops, tended their own herdbeasts, and weaved their own clothing. What they rely on from Crafts were mostly metals and Harpers. Every one needs the learning and entertaining of a good Harper!

Since the Northern Weyrs required assistance with Threadfall and scorn Celestyn in particular, Southern, Luna, Monaco Bay, and Fairlock Weyrs had less beholden to them, in terms of land and people. Celestyn covered Nemoco, Paradise River, and Celestyn Holds- each a major hold with smaller outcroppings and huge portions of land. Southern Weyr took care of Southern whereas Monaco Bay Weyr presided over Cove Hold and all land South and West of the large Bay, where Celestyn was situated. Fairlock, the newest Weyr had Honshu Hold to take care of, with the large fruit orchards. The most unusual Weyr in the South, as the North had just found out, is not Celestyn. Luna is a new-colors-only Weyr that scorns traditional colors, saying that dragons have adapted beyond them. They are thought to be trying to breed even more new 'mutations.' Transfers generally rebel from their better-than-everyone mindset, being down to earth riders. Benga and Moon Holds are this Weyr's to protect.

With this set-up, it was no surprise that a single action could change Pern forever.

Schism

Right into the large Bay, an escape pod landed. Seconds later, all of Celestyn’s senior Wings popped in from between. The four men who emerged were quickly assimilated into the Weyr’s system. One died soon after landing: Pern’s native illnesses did not like the foreigners. After immunization, though, the three remaining were strong. In fact, all men Impressed, two to Royals: one to a King and the other to a Queen. This revolution was not unique to them, however, as a girl from Southern Impressed a King. The Eclipserider G’dion was thrust into Weyrleader position soon after. Ever the mechanic, he salvaged the escape pod.

This whole series of events confounded the Northerners. With Weyr autonomy, though, they could do nothing about it. What was worse, was that the sharding crash-landed Weyrleader had devised a method of retrieving information from the pod. And there was too much to control. Literature, manuals, and most importantly history was soon passed around all of Pern. The immediate effect was that printing presses were created. The Pernese people began to realize that their version of modern was not at all so. This knowledge took a few generations to settle in.

Flipping forward a hundred years, one would find a much different Pern. Much in the way Earth had grown, there was crime, poverty, and small land-battles. The clusters they then called cities were nothing more than sprawl: unplanned and unprotected. The dragonriders received no support from the masses, barely keeping the two continents Thread-free. When a burrow was found, the Holders bitterly complained.

That was not the worst of it, however. Eggs were missing. The plentiful Clutches of the South would vanish before Touching should have been possible. The hatred aimed North equally the paranoia scrutinizing the Holds. Only the Crafts were able to remain indifferent. There was almost a fully fledged war over this tragedy. Until the Northerns realized that their own Clutches had been pillaged. The Weyrs bonded over sheer need and turned their attention to the Holds. Of course, everyone knew that the Holders did not have the manpower or knowledge of the Weyrs for such a move.

But the Renegades did. With a few spies integrated into each Weyr, the strikes had been possible. This was all found out too late. For a hundred years, the Western dwellers had managed to be forgotten. Sending spies was all too easy. Too bad that they were on a suicide mission. Images of Earth had flooded Pern, even the Western continent. Deciding that they had enough of the Red Star and of lack of progress, the Renegades banded together to make a jump between greater than any had tried before. The problem was that they could not risk going without a Queen to populate Earth with dragons. Hence, the stealing of the largest eggs.

The result was a month of draconic keening. Every person on Pern could not escape the sound. Once a dragon had forgotten why he was mourning, his comrades would remind him. It took concentrated effort on the part of the Auroras to calm their Weyrs. The North had to accept the help of the South. One of the Jr. Weyrleaders had been a part of the damned mission. His Golden mate keened louder than the rest, reminding all Golds every time their maws fell silent. Even the Southern Nebulas were needed to silence the North.

The catastrophe was enough for the Pernese people to realize they needed to change. They took it upon themselves to create a governing system, using the mistakes of their ancestors to guide them to the best arrangement.

Reformation

In 5515, the High Council was formed. Each Hold, Craft, and Weyr got one vote. And each decided to appoint member differently. The Holds allowed their members to vote for Council members and sent two people as representation. The two people would have to be in agreement to vote singularly on an issue. The Crafters allowed their Master Crafter to appoint someone to the position. After all, the Master Crafter’s position was to further the cause of his Craft, not decide on Pern-wide policy. The Weyrs allowed their Weyrwoman to have the honor.

The Council, as it was popularly called, revolutionized the way Pernese thought of their planet. It was clear that they would have to utilize Pern’s resources efficiently, as they would be permanent residents. The cities were torn down and rebuilt. The Holders were more like Mayors for their Holds and were no longer considered to ‘own’ the land. Land was allocated to certain Holds, who shared the responsibility of working it. If someone wanted to build anything, they had to file a petition to the Town Council. This system worked very well for them.

Each Craft quickly realized that they would have to adapt. They all had ThinkTanks to brainstorm new ways to innovate. The Glass-smiths were first to step-up. They discovered a way to create even panes of glass in large quantities. Also, the reinvention of plastic was next by the Smithcrafters. This was branched off into a new Craft. Of course, the populous considered Plastics Master a very humorous title. With the glass panes, the Farmercrafters were able to create greenhouses. Each city soon had a greenhouse around every other corner.

The Healers had been using the new technology as best as possible, though the Council’s rise meant bigger changes. Each city, Hall, and Weyr had a full clinic with a small team of Healers. None of them liked the term ‘doctor,’ so it simply was not in use.

One of the biggest changes was within the Harpercraft. There was a division between sides who thought Harpering was about music, acting, and lore and the other side who believed that it should be about history, advising leaders, and teaching. Thus the Harper Hall split into two Crafts, housed in the same complex: Harpers and Historians. Each Hold, Hall, and Weyr would have one of each.

The Council also decided to deter Crafts from making certain things. Television was deemed a waste of resources, thus Pern’s only visual entertainment was in theaters. Also, vehicles were well-scrutinized. The petrol to fuel them would be too costly to the environment. Instead, alternates were attempted. Eventually, the plan for vehicles was given up. Herdbeasts were still used.

Communications lines were also stunted. Although there was the old morse-code system, drums were easier. An interesting factor among the people was that a greater number of empathetic people were being noticed. They could receive messages from dragons, dolphins, fire lizards, and whers. The downside was that the communication was one-sided. Over the course of the next century, these people became ineligible for Impression. Once Impressed, the empathy was useless for anyone except the Bonded dragon. What happened is that an empathetic person would be the relay for messages, called a Dispatcher and given a high rank. Usually, a fair hoard of flits would follow the Dispatcher, to respond to the calls. Each Hall, Hold, and Weyr would have three or four trained Dispatchers.

The North was reluctant, but there was a plan to integrate the new colors into the North. They had been inbred for too long. It was a long-term project that would begin by having southern Queens lay Clutches up North and vice versa. It was only a few years before they realized that the majority of dragonets were betweening before Impressing. The solution was one more innovation that rocked the norm of Pern. The Weyrs were the last to alter their ways, but they ended up making the largest change.

The old laboratory where the new colors had been found a decade before, with nothing though of it. They had found out from the notes of the engineers that there had been a secret mission to widen the gene pool of dragons. It made them more volatile, more human-like, and much more effective fighters of Thread. As the numbers of dragons fell rapidly, the brightest students from the Farmercraft were searching for ways to preserve the great protectors. What they did was ingenious and revolutionary.

Impression

Trevor was nervous. He would admit this to no one, but with the pit of his stomach in an uproar, he could not deny it to himself. The Miner-turned-Candidate stood in a line with his fellow Candidates, clothed in the ridiculous robe and sandals. Sure, it was tradition, but why did tradition have to be so embarrassing? Then was not the moment to be noting the chill on his calves, though. His light brown eyes popped as the six of them were led into the Hatching cavern. The Candidatemaster had a smug look on her face. Of course, she had seen it hundreds of times. But the Candidates were only allowed into the cavern if they were Standing for Adjudication.

The large area that opened up before them was shocking. Only the Ovummaster, the Candidatemaster, and a few helpers were allowed inside. Trevor lowered his head in admonishment. The Queens. I keep forgetting the Queens. This Clutch was from a Nebula, who was curled up to one side. Her crimson hide had pink flickers. Of course, her rider was perched comfortably on her hide, escaping the Sands. Lucky. His gaze swept the other way, to the eerie sight of the incubators.

The Stands had been removed a hundred years before. The wide daises left had been made into rows of mechanics, each row just a little higher than the one before it. Each egg was cradled in blankets, propped on a stand. Surrounding each egg was a rounded glass bubble, keeping the egg in a safe stasis. The stands rolled the eggs slightly every hour or so, just as the Clutchmother would. They were preserved carefully. But most importantly, they would sound an alarm if the egg was removed. Swapping the egg with a weight would not work, as the vital signs of each egg were monitored as well. Through the cryogenic freeze, each egg was perfectly maintained.

The Clutchmother woke with a snort, her Bonded falling off of one side, whining because her hands were singed on the Sands. Trevor held back a chuckle. The Candidatemaster went down the line, checking the robes and murmuring, “Just don’t be afraid.” The nerves settled. Thousands of dragonriders had gone through this same process. It could not be so bad, right?

A flurry of wings sounded, the Nebula looking up to see a White dragon coming in the Cavern for a landing. The Candidates stiffened. A pleasantly round man slid off of the neck ridge, winking at the Candidates. The Adjudicator pair seemed nice enough. The Ovummaster made a few adjustments on the control panel for the stands before joining his guests on the Sands. He looked grim. Then again, Ovummasters were under a lot of pressure from the Queens to take good are of their Clutches. Without much ado, the Adjudication began. Trevor wished they were allowed to Touch, like in old times.

The White dragon leapt forward, muzzle stuck toward the Candidates. Each held their position: they had been warned. The first in line stepped forward. Trevor closed his eyes, not wanting to know what to prepare for. It was different for every person, anyway, though. His lids opened in time to see a shaken girl walk back to her spot, still quaking like a leaf. Trevor stepped up next. He had never been so close to a dragon, he thought as the White came closer. He admired the hide, swirling with the canon colors. So pretty…

His deep amber eyes were caught by the ones swirling just above his. For a White dragon, this one seemed very big. Weren’t they the runts? He became mesmerized, though. His mouth became lax, hanging slightly open. He could feel the White press his mind. Never having experienced it before, he became disoriented and dizzy. Before he could fall, the White reached a heavily clawed arm out to steady him. The heat couldn’t touch his cognizance, as the only thing he felt was cold claws on his arm. The dizziness fell away to nausea, which lasted all of a second. Suddenly, he was himself, not sure where he had been. Perhaps he had only imagined the feel of his old kiln back home. That’s right, he had been right here the whole time. He stepped back warily. The green swirl in the White’s eyes gave him hope.

After the experience, he carefully watched the other four Candidates go through it. One actually passed out, only to get up as if nothing were wrong. When all was done, the White turned to His. The Candidates were allowed to look at the eggs more closely as they conferred. A few minutes later, though it felt like eternity, they were again standing in a line. The first girl stood forward. The Whiterider came up to her. “Fondriath liked you very much, Candidate. You know why that is, don’t you?” Her eyes averted. “Sweetheart, empaths are not allowed to Impress. Besides that, he feels that there are no eggs for you here. Please train, dear. Perhaps you can stay at the Weyr.”

The shock for the other Candidates was great. The girl had always been so quiet. Trevor took a deep breath. His turn was up. The man shook his head at him. “You’ll do fine.” A cryptic smile followed. The rest of the Candidates were also allowed to Stand. Trevor couldn’t think straight he was so happy. Immediately, the man singled out four eggs to be brought down to the Sands. The Clutch mother had apparently made deep indents for her eggs to be placed. The caretakers for the eggs moved them down. Trevor counted, then counted the Candidates, just to make sure. His heart sank. A four out or five chance is good, though.

A week later…

Trevor woke slowly. It had been a hard week. The eggs had to be rolled, fresh sand had to be piled around them, and the Nebula Queen had been breathing down their necks the whole time. Each egg needed someone to attend it at all times. That meant that one person was allowed to sleep on the single cot, go get food for them all, or go bathe at a time. The weyrwoman was in every day at least twice, to give small suggestions. She had said they were lucky, that there was someone who would not Impress. That way they could get out of the cavern every now and then. Trevor had taken minimal time away from the eggs, leaving only to bathe or take a little time on the cot. At least they were not required to wear those sharding robes anymore.

He got up from the old cot, glancing toward the others. Two were asleep at their eggs. Trevor shook his head at their insolence. Of course, he had dozed off a few times on his shifts, so he couldn’t say much. Thick wherhide pants protected them from the harsh Sands. They were not fashionable, but they worked effectively. He woke one of them, gesturing to the cot. The other Candidate gladly accepted. Trevor shifted the egg, petting one side of the egg. This one was his favorite, he thought. It had a slight indent in its glossy blue-tinted shell. The Cryogenicsmaster had assured him it meant nothing. Still, Trevor worried.

He was roused from his musings when the Ovummaster and one of the Weyrlingmasters strutted into the space. “Candidates, you might want to come get something to eat. Don’t worry about the eggs, they will Hatch whether you are draped over them or not.” That woke the sleepy heads into full awareness. The meal was inhaled, all eyes glued to the eggs. Each had begun to twitch. Trevor looked incredulously at the Ovummaster. How did he know? Of course, he knew the response: it was science. That still did not explain how amazing he felt, how excited, or how scared.

Within the hour, the whole flock of fire lizards of the Weyr had flooded the Sands. Each was perched on the wall supports, put there just for that purpose. A few curious dragons hummed far above. The Hatching hum grew as dawn approached. As the glows became unnecessary, the eggs were encouraged to Hatch. The first was a spunky Dusk, to the girl who had passed out during the Adjudication. Go figure. The girl cried and led the wobbly Dusk to an alcove, where the food had been set up. Sound of slurping accompanied the humming.

Trevor kept his distance until a handsome Brown took particular interest in him. T’vormine, come help me get some food. You’ve been telling me how I will need the nourishment to grow large. The happy Impressees went to the alcove, T’vor half-dragging his Rywth along the way. T’vor forgot everything in the process, especially that now he had two years of training ahead. As Rywth became tired, though, he looked toward the Sands. The last Impression was a shy Polestar to the boy with long hair. The boy left refused to cry. He would still have a few more chances, of course. But he’d have to go through Adjudication again. Rywth nipped his fingers, reminding him that he had more important things to worry over.

Modern Day

The current Celestyn is begins in 5815, the bicentennial of the advent of the High Council. Pern flourished under their tutelage. With Wings of dragons to enforce the law set by the governing body, no major civil strife affected the peoples. Instead, a complex culture formed, a pride that was missing beforehand. No longer were they unfortunate to be plagued by Thread, pouring resources into it. Now, they were truly Pernese.

Relics of Ancient Terra, as it was commonly called, were fashionable: jeans, Converse, tee-shirts, and belts of all kinds. Of course, fashion had been modernized for each sect. The Halls tended to stick practical solids, in many layers and cuts. The Holds liked intricacy such as lace and accessories and usually showed off more skin. The Weyrs had daring experimenters, draconic colors ever prevalent in clothing choice.

Other customs from Earth decorated society. Every child received six uniform years of elementary instruction, based on a curriculum set by the Historians and approved by the Council. Apprenticeship still was the mode of teaching for trades and Crafts, however. Banking had become a respectable and reliable trade. Marks were still in use as the main form of currency, though bartering was common. For pedesrian transportation, Pernese Segways (called Segues, as they preferred the correct spelling rather than the marketed one) were very common. They rarely replaced runners, but every Hall, Hold, and Weyr had a full assortment of them, very popular during Gathers.

Weyrs were reduced in numbers of riders since the Raids. Celestyn has just over six hundred riders and is still the largest Weyr by a hundred. The other three hundred plus members of the Weyr come from various sources. Half are Weyrfolk: drudges, Healers, Dispatchers, Harpers, Crafters of various trades, some leaders. Most of the other half is miners. Celestyn finally got permission to open up the jewel-rich mining operation only fifty years before. The miners take up the lower tier of weyrs, often converting the ledges to patios or small gardens.

The few remaining non-Bonded people of the Weyr are scientists or technicians. There is the Ovummaster, his team of caretakers for the incubators, mechanics for the electrical systems, an astrologer who is mostly nocturnal up on the Star Stones, a computer engineer, and a cartographer who has no real purpose.

All of the Weyrs have pretty much the same layout of proportions, just in reduced numbers. Even the North follows the trend. Speaking of, they relented on the non-canon color issue. However, some things will never change. If a King or Queen Impresses the ‘wrong’ gender, they are transferred upon graduation. Of course, only Nebulas and Meteoroids do this and only rarely, but it happens. There is some skepticism in the North, some sullen moods, and hurt feelings. Largely, there is acceptance, though.

Unfortunately, the balance has been awkward lately. Luna Weyr still does not accept the traditional colors. The North has transferred their anger to Luna, instead of the whole South, but sometimes the situation is tense. The Council has been petitioning Luna to convert, with little success. Of course, Northerners are quick to point out how easy it was to get them to accept non-traditional colors. Oh, how history can botch the truth!

Over two centuries, the Red Star remained stuck to Pern’s orbit, torturing the citizens with regular and irregular Falls. Thread still fell about once a month in each territory. And there was still no alternative to dragons as defense. As much as they are appreciated, it is known that the life of a dragonrider is easy compared to others, if one does not count in the extras. To make up for the lack of Thread duties, the Weyrs, as least the Southern ones, are all self-sufficient. The North is in the process of getting enough land to sustain the whole Weyr. Or housing a Craft for barter. High Reaches sells ice to all Halls and Crafts year-round. Also, the dragons are happy to act as emergency transportation, quick goods transport, and entertainment in the form of aerial shows and parades. Each member of the Weyr is on-call for one week each month, to do any number of said extras.

Life on Pern is complex and never boring.