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From: PJcocoa@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} First Impressions [1/7] {Gary Jordan} (RP)
Date: Fri, 10 May 2002 05:10:01 -0400
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"First Impressions" by Gary Jordan

Copyright 2001, 2002

My nearly standard disclaimer:  If you aren't supposed to be
reading this because of your age, or where you live, then I don't
want you to read this, either.  It isn't that I believe 'minors'
don't have prurient thoughts or engage in 'adult' activities.  I
know damned well that they do.  It IS that there are laws which
could get both of us (but mainly ME) in trouble.





First Impressions Chapter 1

As I printed the order confirmation from Amazon.com, I was
grateful once again for the relative silence of my old Canon ink-
jet printer. The last thing I wanted right now was to disturb the
two sleeping lumps nestled inside my shirt. At a few days old,
they didn't do much besides eat and sleep, and feeding them kept
me quite busy, while sleeping meant sharing my personal space and
body heat. I'd taken leave from the plant this week and next
because there was simply no way I could take them to work and no
way I could leave them for more than minutes.

I double-checked the order. "Dragonsinger", Dragondrums" and
"Dragonsong" by Anne McCaffrey - replacements for books long since
loaned out and never returned. I'd enjoyed them years ago. Now I
needed them for research. One of the lumps twisted fitfully,
tickling my ribs and making me smile. I couldn't help but reflect
back...

It was the second day of May. I'd just returned from a trip that
I'd taken to participate in a Ceremony out of town. Quite a
ceremony, and I still wore a blissful expression on my face - but
that's a whole 'nother story. My daughter, just recently turned
"sweet sixteen" had managed to get herself up and to school, but
had left me a note welcoming me home and asking me to pick up a
few things from the grocery store and to check on her egg.

I checked on the egg first, even before storing my purple robes.
She'd brought it home a couple of weeks before, saying it was for
some kind of school project. Details were a little sketchy - I
guess I assumed that it was one of those home-ec things where you
pretend an egg is your baby or something. Eggzavier, as I thought
of it (or him) had started off a bit soft, but had firmed up to a
brittle hardness recently. I always thought they assigned regular
hen's eggs for these projects, but Eggzavier must have been an
ostrich egg or something -he was enormous compared to any grade A
large I'd ever seen. Little did I know.

Once I was unpacked, I looked over her shopping list. Most
peculiar, the list was heavy on inexpensive cuts of meat, like
round steaks and flank steak, hamburger and chicken. Was my
daughter planning a lot of barbecues? The other part of the list
was skin products, moisturizers and creams. No snacks, no diet
soft drinks (an addiction we share), no side dishes made the list.
As I said, most peculiar. Well, the budget could certainly afford
everything she asked for, and if she were planning a little
outdoor cooking, I'd discuss niceties like potato salad and chips
when she got home from school.

I checked Eggzavier again on the way out. When I rotated him in
his bed of heated kitty litter (my personal coffee cup warmer
providing the heat), I swear I felt him shiver. I positioned him a
little deeper in his "bed" anyway, and gave him a little pat.

I was home again in under an hour. The clock by the front door
indicated 4:20, but it's set five minutes fast anyway. My daughter
would be home in another ten minutes, nearly last off the bus,
unless she stopped to visit with friends. I hung my car keys under
the clock and headed for the kitchen to put up the nearly 20
pounds of meat I'd brought in. I never made it.

Little Eggzavier was rocking around in his bed on the coffee table
so hard, it looked like he'd roll out and end up on the floor. I
quickly set down the plastic grocery bags and reached for him. No
sooner did my fingers make contact than a crack split the shell
nearly in two. More cracks appeared as I steadied the shell and I
thought I was in imminent danger of having a baby ostrich or emu
or some such in my hands.

What *did* emerge, moments later, was nothing I'd ever dreamed
possible. In place of some avian oddity, two identical green-
skinned creatures with swirling eyes and tiny claws came creeling
with hunger from the shell. There was no doubt about the hunger -
I felt it in an overwhelming surge of sensation as though it was
me and not they. With one hand, I reached into a grocery bag and
extracted a round steak, used my teeth to rip off the plastic
wrap, then again to rip off a strip of meat to place in their
ravenous beaks.

We kept this up through two steaks, until they were sated, me
talking softly to my new dependents whenever my teeth weren't busy
ripping meat. Their eyes went from a swirling red to green, before
both fell asleep. When at last I could look away, I was startled
to find my daughter standing in the open doorway, tears running
down her cheeks. Having figured out what was going on (I have read
all of the Pern novels), I could only look an apology into her
blue eyes (my legacy). I could tell she knew as well as I that
what was done could not be undone.

I had impressed two green "fire lizards". They were meant for her,
but once impression occurs, an irrevocable bond is formed. While
we three lived, that bond would bind us together in a kind of
telepathic, or at least telempathic symbiosis. I couldn't give her
either of my charges, even if I wanted to. And now, while they
slept, I needed information.

"Honey," I asked softly, "where did you get that egg?"

"I can't tell you that, Dad. We're sworn to secrecy. I gave my
word of honor I wouldn't tell." She wiped her eyes and sat on the
floor next to me, reaching out to stroke supple skin.

"All right, I can respect that." For now, anyway, I thought.
"Who's 'we'?"

"Me and nine of my friends. We each got an egg. I got first choice
and picked the biggest. I was sorta hoping for a queen. You know,
a gold?" She didn't look at me, her gaze was only for the fire
lizards.

"Looks like we got twins, instead." I had to smile at my green
ladies. "Who are the nine friends?"

She listed them for me, all girlfriends who had been to the house
for visits or sleep-overs at one time or another. That figured. I
was vaguely pleased that no boys were on the list, until that
thought caused the hair on my neck to stand up. Inadvertently,
there *was* one "boy" on the list, now. My thoughts were
interrupted by the ringing of the phone. As I was in no position
to answer it (and calls between 4:30 and 10:00 P.M. were never for
me, anyway), my daughter answered for us.

The calls were steady for the next 20 minutes, with call waiting
getting a workout. The tally was three bronzes and six blues. All
males (the fire lizards, that is). My two were the only females. I
don't know if any of the girls realized the implications. I
wondered if all the eggs were from the same clutch, and whether
fire lizards cared one whit about consanguinity.

Nine nubile fifteen or sixteen year olds, each with a male fire
lizard, and one old widower with twin female fire lizards. I
worked at the Power Plant of a prison, outside the fence. I had no
desire to visit the other side. How long until Pat and Julie rose
to mate? Would my first indication be a brightening of their green
hides? I needed to do some research.

That was days ago. I knew I had some time, but I was praying
fervently that Amazon would not have any "shipping delays", as I
had heard rumored. I'd been a widower for over three years, and I
wasn't sure I could lock myself away when the time came. The image
of nine teenagers surrounding me with dragon lizards perched on
their shoulders, eyes swirling, while Pat and/or Julie blooded
some poor squirrel in preparation for flight...

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