by Alma Boykin
“It is probably stress,” Tarkeela decided after a few more days. He rose onto his hindlegs and leaned against the fence around the junior play area, watching his daughter and a forefoot-full of juniors chasing tails and rolling around in the sand. Once Cheerka and the others got safely north, Tarkeela decided, he would take a sixt and go to one of the hot-pool resorts near Cloudwash. He could call it an inspection tour of the mineral processing facilities.
The next day Cheerka noticed everyone around him acting twitchy. The True-dragons seemed especially uncomfortable, but no one the story-catcher spoke to knew why. “Maybe there is a House feud starting,” someone opined. “Those can get bloody in a hurry, even if you just get caught on the edges.”
The weather had not helped, Cheerka decided as he stared out the window, nor had the slow news from the Unnumbered Islands. Too many people confined to a small space also fed trouble, people stepping on tails and snagging talons. Cheerka stayed at the edges of the most crowded sections of Sea Gate, no longer hunting for news. His prey now came to him, in the form of tips from peacekeepers, files from Clan administrators in his drop boxes, and tales from ordinary Azdhagi and True-dragons eager to pass on good news and juicy rumors. Cheerka stored up the tales, pre-loading several sixts worth of his new story-section, then filling in the latest bits and nips of news, official and otherwise.
Work done and files sent, Cheerka started for the door when an urgent buzzing emerged from his computer. It had never made that sound before and he hurried over to see if it was trying to self-destruct. Instead, a flashing message floated over the projector. “Urgent, urgent, Sea Gate, Wave Wash,” and a list of towns, cities, and locations followed. “Harbor wave warning, repeat harbor wave warning. Ships at sea report a wave inbound from the west, traveling 200 kliqs per hour. Origin point unknown, intensity unknown but assume strong to severe. Repeat,” and the message scrolled past again.
He had no idea what it meant, but Cheerka decided that he did not care to see a “harbor wave” from the harbor. He grabbed his carry-harness and joined the flow of Azdhagi moving uphill. A series of loud hoots sounded and a female screamed. “Just keep moving,” a loud voice called. “Don’t panic, just climb. There’s plenty of time.” The inbound vehicles stopped and their drivers and crew got out, joining the ever-growing stream of Azdhagi and a few True-dragons. “No room to turn around,” Cheerka heard a driver explain, and he was right. Climbing reptiles filled the streets, everyone moving away from the harbor and the sea.
Cheerka stopped in a very large park with a good view of the harbor, roughly two-thirds of the way to the top of the slope. Several hundred other Azdhagi had already gathered there, and he heard a female assuring someone that “We are well above the danger point. The last big harbor wave stopped half-way up this hill and my boss says that the harbor manager said the seismology people think that this one will probably be weaker.”
Cheerka watched, fascinated, as water backed out of the harbor as if sucked by a vacuum pump. The ships still moored settled onto the now exposed mud of the harbor bottom. A few daring individuals appeared to be collecting the exposed fish, round-shells, and other seafood. A male voice at Cheerka’s shoulder grumbled, “Well, their lineage won’t miss them.”
“What do you mean?” Cheerka asked, turning to see a pale green individual with a set of distance viewers.
“You see that line on the horizon, the gray-and-blue one way off in the distance?”
Cheerka peered out. “Yes, like a cloudbank.”
“That’s water. All the water from the harbor plus whatever the land shake started moving. That’s the harbor wave, and those idiots down on the docks and flats have about as much chance at outrunning it as a shootee does of flying once all that water starts coming back in.”
“You’ve seen one of these before?”
The stranger lowered his viewers and swirled a forefoot. “My sire’s sire survived the last big one that hit Wave Wash. That’s how it got its name, from a harbor wave like this one. Taught all of us to be very careful around the sea.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd. “I’m climbing higher.”
Uncertain, Cheerka stayed where he stood, watching the distant line and the reptiles around him. A few seemed to grow worried and left, making their way back to the crowded road and the safety of height. Most of the others remained calm, joking about fish in the basement and wringing out floor mats. Cheerka took his recorder out of his carry harness, flipped it to “live send” and began dictating his observations, sending them straight to his news feed. As the line grew darker against the sky, he decided to try and find a better view.
“I’m working my way farther up the Sea Gate back slope,” he told the device. “Everyone I can see is calm and people are walking quickly, some carrying bundles of household goods. There is no breeze yet, or scent or sound from this ‘harbor wave.’ A large number of transports and cargo vehicles have pulled to the side and stopped, freeing the main traffic ways for pedestrians.” He glanced over. “Two females are driving a herd of juniors, probably from one of the open day-dens. The juniors are behaving themselves and act as if this is a regular outing. It may well be,” he added. “Sea Gate practices a large number of drills for fire, ship in distress, storms, and harbor waves.” Cheerka turned off the recorder for the moment, trotting through a few gaps in the mass of Azdhagi.
The farther up-slope they climbed, the fewer reptiles he encountered as people stopped where they felt safe. Cheerka still wanted a better view and pushed on. The other reptiles accelerated, some starting to jog, and Cheerka thought he heard a flowing sound, like a very distant waterfall. As he lumbered along, a whistle caught his and other people’s ears. He looked up and saw the True-dragon drink-mixer from the Blue Azdhag waving and pointing. «Cheerka, get up here!» She called. «Wave’s coming back in!»
He eased out of the reptilian river and walked around the back of a positively ancient house. Cheerka found an unlocked gate leading to an old-fashioned exterior ramp. He scaled the ramp, climbing up four levels to find the drink-mixer sprawled on top of a basking platform. “I haven’t seen one of these in years,” the story-catcher panted, staring down at the slatted wood with its shallow depressions for individual sun-soakers. “How’d you find it?”
The True-dragon snorted. «My landlord uses ‘historical preservation’ as an excuse not to upgrade the plumbing. Oh fewmets. Story-catcher, I hope you brought your whole hunting pack, because this is the biggest story you’ve ever tried to bring to bay!» She pointed with one forefoot and tail, wrapping her talons around the wood of the basking platform with the other three feet.
Cheerka turned his recorder back on, then took an equally firm grip, just in case. “The water has started returning. I am on top of a basking platform, half a kliq by road below the crest of the highland, maybe a little lower. The horizon is dark, and it looks like, yes the incoming water has caught several ships, carrying them along. I think I see some motion down in the harbor, vehicles moving, but there are too many buildings in the way for me to see details. The water, like a giant brown tongue with white tips, is pushing into the harbor opening. It hisses and rumbles. The piers are disappearing and one, two, four, all of the big cranes are gone, tipped into the water! Vehicles, the wave has picked up vehicles, roofs, an entire warehouse is floating! There are people on the roof, I can’t see yet for certain. The water just keeps coming like the entire Western Ocean is draining into Sea Gate.”
He took a breath to resume the narration and the True-dragon slapped him with her tail. «No! Stop! Those are people dying down there!»
Cheerka glared at her, then turned back to the scene. “The water has passed the second cross road up from the harbor. I can hear crashes and groans from the buildings smashing together, shoved by the water. Now people are screaming, running up-slope as fast as they can.” He stopped. “I am ceasing to record and will resume after the wave passes.” He turned off the recorder but kept watching, horrified and fascinated
by the sight of utter destruction and chaos. Screams, shrieks, bellows, and wails cut through the grinding, gurgling roar of the wave as the waters rose higher and higher, swallowing buildings, vehicles, parks, and thousands upon thousands of terrified Azdhagi. A few made it onto roofs and clutched the tiles and slick-finished surfaces, praying, screaming, or silent, intent on survival. Here and there Cheerka watched juniors moving above the mass of reptiles, passed forefoot to forefoot by pack members in an attempt to get them above the water. The waters carried a large fishing boat well up into Cheerka’s neighborhood and he watched, jaw-dropped with awe.
The edge of the wave licked the foundations of buildings on the row below the old house, but came no farther. As the reptiles stared, the water began running back downhill, sucking everything and everyone loose with it and ripping Sea Gate apart. The True-dragon whispered, «Stay, story-catcher. There’s nothing to be done yet, not until the second wave comes and goes.»
“What second wave?”
«Water sloshes. This much water will slosh around a lot, but not as high as the first time. But we have no idea how much less high,» she explained. «Then we can start trying to help people.»
The second wave only reached the second cross-town road. As soon as they saw that the worst had passed, Cheerka and Rosilia left the basking platform, gathered what supplies she had in her residence, and started chivvying terrified people up the slope. “Yes, help is coming,” Cheerka assured everyone, bellowing loudly. “But first we have to organize a place to bring the injured and the juniors. Then we can start work. The pack takes care of its own.” Another equally brawny male joined him, then a reservist in uniform, and the quartet began making a pouch of order and calm, relatively speaking.
Once he’d gotten the first batch moving and organized, Cheerka went back down-slope, found another group of stragglers, and pushed, herded, and snapped at them, driving them to the others. More and more Azdhagi began sorting themselves out, and Rosilia and a reservist pointed out places to set up pack groups, first-aid depots, and other things. A full sized True-dragon joined them, making an easy marker for Cheerka. “See the purple True-dragon? Go to him and he will direct you.”
Two hours later the first half-hovers from Kirlin, Beesh, and the Imperial Reserves and peacekeepers arrived. One of the biggest males Cheerka had seen since leaving the Imperials started calling, “Where’s Cheerka? I need to find Cheerka the story-catcher!”
“That’s me,” he bellowed back, and a path cleared a little so the two could reach each other. “What do you want, Lieutenant?”
“Lord Kirlin told me to find you specifically. Said you knew which people to find, who knows the streets, and where to look for supplies and survivors,” the soldier told him. “We’ve got ground transport following, but we have two winch-planes that we use for fire-drops here for water and roof rescues.”
“Good. Inner harbor and warehouses, plus the first residential district up to the second ring road are gone. Don’t bother trying to search there.” He hated to say it but Cheerka knew they had to concentrate on the possible. “See that white house with the basking platform, two talons off center?” he pointed to his refuge.
“Affirmative.”
“Water reached there.” Cheerka advised, “I’d recommend starting a little downslope, clearing from that level, beginning with the main streets and spreading out from there. You might also find some people out at sea, on roofs and other floating debris.” And so the rescues and salvage began.
Kirlin’s people and the others, along with workers from the depots and warehouses above Sea Gate, set up camps and shelters for the refugees. The True-dragons helped as well, and Cheerka dragged Rosilia into acting as a guide for the first search teams, until they could get proper equipment and more searchers. She managed to save a few juniors and others, fitting into tight spaces that the males couldn’t reach in order to coax or drag survivors out. But there were few such rescues after the first night. The Clans and reservists also kept order, stopping a few attempts at theft and an assault with rapid and firm discipline. Cheerka resumed his narration, skipping the stories of greed and self-preservation for the moment. Those he remembered for the full record, along with the growing stench rising up the slope from the stranded fish, disrupted sewage systems, and hundreds of thousands of dead bodies. For right now, he needed to reassure people and to pass the word out that Sea Gate had not completely died.
Kirlin arrived the next day, with Beesh and Zlee-kae and more supplies, medical personnel, and shelters. Kirlin’s own half-hover circled past the refugee settlement and hill-top districts to come in low and slow from over the water, his pilot dropping markers for the next two aircraft, both equipped and staffed for sea-rescues. Kirlin knew it would be bad but even his military training and trip into the Deathlands hadn’t prepared him for the jumble of debris and bodies. He could have walked over the water and into the city on the debris field from at least ten kliqs out. Lone God’s talons! How did anyone survive? He knew what had happened. He’d heard Cheerka’s broadcasts.
The Great Lord waited until things settled out, then hunted around for this Cheerka fellow. That evening, the second after the harbor wave’s departure, Kirlin found Cheerka and Rosilia on top of the basking platform. She had persuaded the peacekeepers to let them camp there, out of the way but in sight. Kirlin waved off his escort and climbed up alone. “Cheerka?”
“That’s me,” a very tired voice rumbled, and a muscular tan-and-brown male turned around from watching the sunset. “Ah, good evening, my lord,” and he bowed. The blue-green True-dragon also bowed, curious but staying quiet.
“Well done, story-catcher. Tarkeela sends his greetings and his people will be here tomorrow with heavy salvage equipment and those big industrial transports from TeerClaw.” The noble watched the sun drop lower and lower, turning the strip of water visible from the harbor mouth into molten gold. “Beautiful view.”
«Yes, my lord. This is one of the best, was one of the best, in Sea Gate.»
“The sunset yesterday was one of the most colorful we’ve had here in moons, my lord,” Cheerka explained.
Kirlin swept his tail. “Is there anything you need?”
“Not really, great my lord. The Clans and others have been generous and, well, sir, I’m afraid that there will be plenty for those of us who survived.” Cheerka gave the noble a look that sent Kirlin’s tail tip twitching.
«Great my lord, if I might be bold, we need physicians of the mind, if you have any,» the True-dragon added. «After the Disaster, those who suffered twice are probably not going to rebound quickly.»
Kirlin had not thought about that. He’d never heard of Azdhagi going mad from something like this, but then they had never suffered anything of this magnitude, not that he ever heard of. “That is a very good point, and I will pass the word to the others. You are?”
«Rosilia, great my lord, of House Moytu in the Wildlands, formerly drink-mixer at the Blue Azdhag,» she provided, and he heard a hint of a wry smile in her mind voice.
“The Blue Azdhag? Is that a bar?” The True-dragon and story-catcher gestured affirmative. “Where is it?” They pointed toward the southwest and Kirlin peered into the darkness, then rumpled his tail. Like all other Azdhagi, he could barely see a tail-length in front of him at night. In fact, he needed to get back to the main camp before full darkness. “Are you staying here?”
“Yes. We have permission and supplies, are visible to the guards, and can defend ourselves, great my lord.” Cheerka had to be one of the biggest out-Clan males Kirlin recalled seeing and the noble gestured his assent.
“I want to speak with you more tomorrow, Cheerka.” Kirlin turned and started down the ramp, then twisted his neck and called back, adding, “My lady follows your news-feed daily and sends her gratitude for your safety.”
Kirlin missed Tarkeela’s arrival the next day, but caught up with the other noble shortly after the noon meal. As Kirlin walked up to Tarkeela, he found a sm
all green and brown female wearing a heavily laden carry-harness as well as head protection. The female explained, “One kliq farther east would be even better, my lord, but this should work. We’ll just make sure all the pilots are in good standing with their temples and encourage people not to eat a big pre-departure meal.”
Tarkeela laughed at what was apparently a joke and slapped the ground with his tail. “Good. I’ll get out from under feet and let you finish, then. Please tell Sarka when you get ready to start testing so he can alert the dispatchers to wait for your signal.”
“Yes, my lord,” and she bowed, then trotted away, already talking to someone on a voice-comm clipped to her carry-harness. Tarkeela turned around and found Kirlin watching him.
When Tarkeela did not speak, Kirlin gritted his teeth and growled, “You are wrong about politics and your economic policies are too focused on things outside the Empire, but it’s not worth fighting over now.”
“And your insistence on Clan supremacy remains foolish in the extreme, Kirlin, especially now, but yes, it can wait. First we have to make sure as many people as possible survive.” Tarkeela sighed, making a sweeping gesture with his strong-side forefoot. “I hope that this is three.”
“Three?”
Kirlin recognized the prey when Tarkeela started counting. “One, the genetic manipulation, two was New Southdown, and this makes the third disaster to attack Drakon IV. Surely that is enough.”
The two nobles looked at the reptiles swarming around them. Dust clouds rose from a construction site where TeerClaw engineers and construction crews, assisted by volunteers, cut away the topsoil in order to lay the foundation for a heavy-lift aircraft landing area. Smoke rose from a temporary cremation facility, erected after desperate public health crews unceremoniously rolled one too many bodies into the sea under cover of darkness. Closer to the crest of the highland behind Sea Gate, a temporary city provided refuge for the orphaned and mate-lost, the wounded and healthy, as the people sorted out what to do and where they could seek permanent homes. “When does reconstruction start,” Kirlin wondered aloud.
