Synopsis: A freighter dragon takes a break from his responsibilities hauling cargo when he is enlisted by one of the ranch hands to help her test out a strange new piece of equipment—a breeding mount, designed to milk every last drop of semen from a drake.
This story is self-contained and can be read alone. (6,073 words)
*****
"Maxwell! Hey, over here!"
Maxwell's ears pricked up at the sound of someone shouting his name. The dragon turned and saw that it was one of the ranchers—a human by the name of Jennifer, who had just stepped out of a nearby barn.
Jennifer was more than just some random farmhand—she was the daughter of the head rancher and she mostly worked planning out the complex logistics required for the dragon ranch's flight operations. However, Jennifer also helped out all around the farm, and she liked to interact with the freighter dragons. She was, as agreed by most of the dragons, a nice human.
"Yes?" Maxwell asked, trotting over obediently.
Jennifer patted him on the head. "You just finished your first transatlantic, right? Congratulations!"
Maxwell nodded. "Thank you. It was fun to see Europe."
The dragon ranch bred and housed numerous dragons to operate flights all across the state, the country, and beyond; delivering packages, mail, and cargo to wherever they needed to go. Just like almost every dragon on the ranch, Maxwell was a grey-backed nettled glider—a domesticated species of dragon which specialized in carrying cargo or passengers. The life of a freighter dragon was a hectic one—most of their time was spent either flying, or sleeping to rest before their next flight. Efficiency and the heavy competitiveness in the industry dictated that they usually had little time to relax; freighters worked six days out of a week, and even that was considered generous.
Maxwell was a young dragon who had only recently reached adult size, which for a grey-backed nettled glider was slightly larger than a very big horse, although his proportions were significantly different from an equine. He had four legs, two huge wings, and a long slender tail—this all came standard on most every dragon, freighter or otherwise. The average grey-backed nettled glider could carry the weight of up to six humans in flight—this would involve them dangling off the dragon's side in special harnesses—but the dragon ranch usually worked with only cargo, not passengers.
Since he had reached adult size, Maxwell was officially allowed to fly long-distance routes which demanded more endurance. Just an hour ago he had finished a route that was more than interstate or international—it had been inter
continental
. Departing from the American east coast where his home ranch was located, he had flown across the Atlantic Ocean on a two-way cargo delivery to London and back. Maxwell hadn't done this alone, of course—all transatlantic flights were done in convoys with at least three (but sometimes up to two dozen) dragons flying together in a formation. Nevertheless this had been Maxwell's first time flying on such a long (and profitable) route, and he was quite proud of achieving this milestone.
Jennifer's mouth moved in an upward twist, which Maxwell understood humans did to indicate happiness. "So when's your next flight? It's day after tomorrow, right?" she asked.
"Yes. I'm flying the noon-day mail route on Thursday, down to Florida," Maxwell confirmed. Usually he would only have been allowed to rest until the next day, or even just for a few hours before he flew off again on another cargo flight, but today he had been granted a full day and a half of rest as a special celebratory treat since he'd just flown his first transatlantic flight.
"Good, good. So you're free for the afternoon, right? I need your help testing out some equipment." Jennifer pulled open the barn door and beckoned him in.
"Alright. Testing how? Do you need something delivered somewhere?" Maxwell entered the barn and glanced around. The barn was a simple building without any rooms or partitions, and right in the middle of the space was a strange piece of equipment—it looked like a large rounded cylinder placed horizontally and attached to four metal legs, with several pipes and tubes running all over the thing. Maxwell wasn't sure what the machine was for, but it was roughly about the size of a dragon. Even more curiously, the top and sides were covered by padding decorated with greyish scale patterns, as if to imitate a dragon's hide. "What's that?"
"You don't know? Some of the other drakes get hard just at the sight of something like this." Jennifer walked over to the machine and tapped a few buttons on a control panel. "This...is a
breeding mount
. Specifically, it's a new automated design which does all sorts of fancy things like, uh, self-cleaning, immediate sample splitting, and integrated cryogenic storage. Now if you ask me, it's a bit silly that we've made all this fancy technology for something which could have been done with no technology at all, but that's just efficiency for you. Supposedly it's really fast with a high yield, so that's what you're going to help me test."
Maxwell had no idea what Jennifer was talking about. She was saying lots of complex words very quickly, and although Maxwell liked to think of himself as cleverer than average for a freighter dragon, he didn't quite grasp what she was saying. "I don't understand. What do you need me to do?" he asked, sitting down on his haunches.
Jennifer smiled again, and she scratched Maxwell under his chin in a way which felt quite nice. "It's ok; I'll walk you through the whole process. This is your first time, right? You've never even used one of the older manual mounts."
Maxwell could recall having heard some of the older freighters chatting about enjoying a mount, but he had never asked them what exactly they were talking about. "I don't think so. Is...is that something I should have done?"
"No, that's fine. You're still young, but since you've flown transatlantic than means you're definitely old enough to have a decent sperm yield." Jennifer pressed another button on the machine, and suddenly it began to produce a faint hissing sound. "You do actually know what breeding is and how it works, right?"
Maxwell shook his head, then he changed his mind and nodded his head, then he changed his mind again and shook his head. "Breeding is...when you make new dragons?" he supposed.
"Yep. The traditional way is to get two dragons (male and female, of course) together and just let em have a go at each other, and hope that a few months down the line we get an egg. That's called live cover. It's the exact same process as nature intended, but it's a logistical nightmare. The biggest problem is that we have to pull two freighters out from flight operations—we used to prefer breeding the older freighters because they flew less often and had more free time, but that sort of thing increases the chance of complications during the lay, or damaged eggs, or other issues. Not to mention the possibility that they just don't like each other. It's much easier to use artificial insemination from younger, healthier dragons in their prime, such as
you
." Jennifer used her finger and gently tapped Maxwell's nose.
Maxwell felt uneasy about this idea—it seemed like he had only just barely matured out of being a fledgling, but now he was apparently old enough to make an egg? "So you're going to have me make an egg?"
"Not yet. Eventually yes we'll probably try to inseminate some female with your stock, but first we would need to do a medical screening and genetic testing. For today we're just going to do some equipment testing on this new mount. I'll give you some chocolate when you're done—would you like that?"
Most dragons found chocolate to be a sticky and overly sweet type of food, but Maxwell had a weakness for the treat and Jennifer knew it. "I would like that..." he admitted.
"Great. Any questions before we begin?"
Maxwell had many questions, but he wasn't sure how to prioritize them. "Uh..."