Clawing Back from Chaos: Book 9 in the Cat Among Dragons Series (A Cat Among Dragons)

by Alma Boykin

  “Yes, ma’am. We advanced to our initial objective and began establishing a cleared perimeter.” Cpl. Zon had a map out for the Colonel as Lee continued, “Cpl. Anderson noted an unmapped terrain feature and with Cpl. Nguen went to verify it. At that time, Manx One’s sensor suite changed color. I notified her of the change, and she recommended using extreme caution. Thirty seconds later the pond, well, exploded, ma’am.” Lee shook his head as he tried to make sense of what he’d seen. “Anderson and Nguen were caught in the blast. As it was happening, Manx One recommended we relocate farther from the pond, which I ordered. It was evident that Anderson’s injuries were more than Sgt. McHenry was equipped to deal with, so I requested that Manx One join us.”

  “Which I did as expeditiously as possible,” the xenologist interjected, looking up from retrieving data from the sensor suite’s memory core. “The boiling water, steam, and sulfuric acid cooked Anderson. After discussing the situation with Sgt. McHenry, we recommended immediate medical evacuation of the two injured soldiers.”

  Everyone in earshot either winced or shivered at Rachel’s blunt diagnosis. Lee picked up the report again, “We fulfilled out assigned objective, and I elected to return to base. We did leave a monitor on site, ma’am, and we found another un-mapped feature as we returned.” Zon pointed out the second odd spot for the colonel.

  Several of the Army soldiers snorted with disbelief. “What a crock of shit,” someone muttered. Rachel looked up from her analysis and glared in the direction of the voice, but didn’t move.

  “That’s impossible, Sergeant,” Blocker Three, better known as Capt. Bill Jones stated. “And unless your general is here, his orders do not countermand those from Col. Sandborn. The civilian is under arrest for violating security procedures.” He started reciting the regulation.

  Col. Selassie and the 58th Regiment’s other personnel were more concerned with Commander Na Gael just then. The grey-clad woman had gone still, then turned her head to look over her shoulder. “We need to move, now, Colonel,” she said, sounding strained. “Unless you are wearing asbestos underwear.” Selassie could see smoke or steam coming from within the training area and realized that the wind was pushing whatever it was toward them.

  “The bracken?” Lee asked, as he gestured for his scouts to start moving.

  “Affirmative, and everything else around it,” Rachel replied, then raised her voice so that it carried. “You lot too. Or stay if you’re suicidal.” She turned and backed away toward the laagered vehicles.

  Col. Selassie glanced at the map and noted a car park in the middle of a marshy area just over a kilometer or so to the west, roughly halfway to where the rest of the regiment’s personnel waited. “Fall back to here,” she ordered. “You too, Capt. Jones. That’s a direct order.”

  “Sir, there’s a fire moving this way,” one of the Army soldiers reported, his voice rising. “It might cut us off if it continues with the wind.” Jones hesitated, not wanting to disobey a direct order but not wanting to give too much credit to these strange people either. But a fire on the moor was serious indeed, and he opted for caution.

  “Pull back to the secondary perimeter,” he ordered his men, and they moved quickly and smoothly to their vehicles. Despite her irritation Rachel nodded, pleased with their professionalism and rapid action.

  Once tucked into a seat in one of the Athelstan scout vehicles, Rachel gave in and Logres overpowered her. Again, something disrupted the energy flows, this time trying to gather and redirect them to a specific point to the east and north. Logres did not care who or what it was, or where it came from, but it wanted the disruption stopped. It followed the pull and sent a pulse of energy into the thing, overloading it. Satisfied for the moment, Logres again returned the energy flows in Dartmoor to their proper channels and pulled back from its servant’s mind.

  When Rachel came ‘round, she was hanging against the four-point harness in the Athelstan’s seat, with two very concerned troopers watching her. She swallowed and blinked, trying to regain her sense of where she was. “I hate it when that happens,” she said. “How long . . ?”

  “A good ten minutes or more, ma’am,” Cpl. Lee said. “Are you all right?”

  That’s a good question, Rachel mused, still fuzzy around the edges. Since no one in their right mind agrees to be a Guardian, I think the answer is ‘no.’

  “More or less, Corporal.” She straightened up and leaned back against the seat. “Did the fire follow us?”

  “No. It seems to have stopped advancing shortly after you passed out, Commander Na Gael,” Major Sigurdson informed her, leaning into the back of the scout vehicle. “Do you know what is happening?”

  She undid her harness and tried to get up, but staggered. With some help, the exhausted Wanderer slid out of the vehicle and set up her portable supercomputer. She plugged in the sensor suite’s memory core and ran the data set as the officers, and some of the NCOs, gathered around her. “Someone or something is manipulating energy, very clumsily I must say. They are . . .” her voice trailed off as she noticed more than just regimental people lurking around. “Little pitchers have big ears,” Rachel tartly cautioned her nominal superior.

  “Auf Deutsch,” Col. Selassie ordered. German was the Global Defense Force’s second language, much to the irritation of the French, Chinese, and Russians—and to the irritation of the regular Army soldiers trying to listen in.

  “Jawohl, meine Kolonelin,” Rachel agreed, then continued the briefing.

  Even the Army sergeant who spoke German had trouble following her explanation and gave up. “Col. Sandborn’s right, sir. The civilian’s insane and the Defense Force people are equally touched,” he informed Capt. Jones.

  Rachel finished her briefing. She’d left a great deal out for the sake of those who weren’t fluent in scientific German, but it was enough to get her point across. As the troopers processed the information, two more vehicles pulled into the parking area, both military. Rachel was relieved to see Brigadier General Rahoul Khan emerge, glance around, and stride toward his gathered officers. “Colonel, Commander,” he acknowledged, returning their salutes as Rachel heaved herself to her feet. “At ease. Concise briefing, please.”

  “Energy where it should not be, manipulated by someone or something that should not be, and that lacks the necessary control to handle it safely,” Rachel explained.

  Khan looked at her and waited. When nothing more was forthcoming, he frowned. “Not quite that concise, Commander.”

  The one-eyed woman tipped her head as if pointing over his shoulder. “Question transmitting in the clear, sir,” was her cryptic reply. It took him a moment to catch on. Then he turned, his frown deepening as an Army officer bore down on the group. Khan straightened up and walked over to intercept the newcomer.

  The lean, pale Englishman studied the South Asian general, hesitating just a moment too long before offering an unhappy salute. Khan returned the gesture. “Col. Sandborn?”

  Another hesitation. “Brigadier Khan,” he responded. The general started extending his hand, then smoothly turned it into a summoning gesture when Sandborn made no attempt to return the courtesy. Commander Na Gael and Col. Selassie answered the summons and walked up to the two men, stopping half a meter behind Rahoul.

  Sandborn’s glance passed over Selassie, noting her foreign insignia, and a hint of a frown bent the Englishman’s lips. That frown deepened as he studied Commander Na Gael. The Wanderer-hybrid returned his regard, her expression revealing nothing but polite interest. The pale officer’s eyes fixed on her face, and Rachel read his feelings all too clearly. So did Rahoul, who frowned as disgust flickered over Sandborn’s features.

  “I understand that there is some difference of interpretation regarding the xenologist’s participation in the exercise, Colonel Sandborn?” Khan half-inquired.

  Sandborn chose his words carefully. “That is correct,” once again he let one second too many pass, “sir. The briefing material for this exercise failed to
describe the exact role of the ‘xenologist,’ or to explain that this person was a civilian. As you are aware, civilian observers are allowed, but only in specific portions of the exercise reserve and only with specific clearances. Capt. Jones informed me that the ‘xenologist,’” Sandborn put an odd emphasis on the term, “lacked those clearances. When she insisted on violating the regulations, I saw no option but to have her detained,” he paused a last time, “sir.”

  “I see, Colonel. That is an unfortunate oversight, I agree. Commander.” Rachel stepped forward and slightly to his side. “Show Col. Sandborn your security pass, please.”

  Rachel took the document out of its carrier and handed it to the Army officer. He looked at it, frowned, and studied the form more closely. “This is most unusual,” he said, holding it up.

  “As are the duties of the xenology specialist, Colonel,” Rahoul agreed. “I trust that answers some of your concerns?”

  Sandborn handed the item back, trying not to touch Rachel’s hand as he did. She didn’t need physical contact to read him, however. Discomfort with the proceedings, acute discomfort with the civilian’s apparent access and person, and a spike of jealousy bordering on hatred of Rahoul, all combined to make Rachel picture the man as a porcupine, without a porcupine’s laid-back personality.

  “Yes, sir, it does.” He turned to Capt. Jones. “The arrest order is cancelled.”

  “Yes, sir.” The other man sounded relieved not to have to force the issue any more.

  “However, I am rather concerned by the lack of communication and coordination in this exercise. I understand that medevac was required for some of your people?”

  Rahoul dismissed Rachel as he turned to Col. Selassie. “Colonel?”

  “Sergeant Lee,” the woman called and the NCO and xenologist traded places, more or less. Rachel limped back to the scout vehicle and the protection of the GDF troopers.

  One of the scouts, Cpl. Zon, kept looking at Sandborn, at the other soldiers, and then back at the English colonel. Colour Sergeant Sandy O’Malley noticed Zon’s interest. “Question, Al?”

  “Ah, why does the colonel seem so different from his men,” the Dutch corporal inquired. “I’d take him for Scandinavian or maybe Dutch.”

  “You mean his coloring?”

  Zon nodded, “That and his accent.”

  The Colour Sergeant half smiled. “I wager that the colonel is from a very, very old family that were part of the nobility. If you keep an eye out, you’ll see that many upper class English are leaner and paler than the rest of us ‘lower sorts.’” The sergeant made quotation marks with his fingers.

  The corporal caught on instantly, impressing Rachel. She made a mental note to keep a discreet eye on the young soldier. He asked, “Endogamy, C.S.?”

  “If you mean some family trees don’t branch too far, yes. Spare me the big words, Al,” the brown-haired Irishman sighed. “I work for a living.” Rachel hid a grin and marveled again at the constants in her universe.

  The grin faded into concentration as Rachel tried to make sense of the data she’d been collecting. Two lines appeared on the display of her supercomputer. One showed the normal base energy level for this part of Britain, while the other showed the most recent readings from her data-collection unit, both displayed over the past two hours. Rachel noted the elevated level from the time the sensors began recording, as well as three spikes followed by equally rapid declines. One matched the time the “pond” exploded, a second when the sulfur fog appeared, and then again just after the GDF and army units relocated. A black eyebrow rose as she noted the duration and intensity of the last sequence. No wonder I passed out.

  Now, where was the energy going to, besides north and east? A little reluctantly, Rachel called up the mapping software, narrowed her search to within a hundred kilometers or so of Dartmoor, and closed her eye. She reached out with her mind, trying to find any remnants of the path the redirected energy had taken, then froze as Logres joined in the search, dragging her mind to a densely settled town on a river not far from the coast. Then it withdrew in part, giving her back the reins, passive but still aware.

  Rachel opened her eye to see someone’s polished combat boots and perfectly bloused trouser cuffs. «Hullo, Rahoul,» she sent a touch fuzzily as she sat up.

  “You tried to drop this, ma’am,” Cpl. Lee said, offering her the laptop.

  “Thank you, Lee,” Rachel accepted the device and glanced at the screen. “Exeter? That’s . . . interesting.”

  «In English, Commander,» Rahoul ordered in her head. She’d slipped into Trader. “You have some information, Commander?” he continued aloud.

  “Yes, sir.” He gestured for her to continue and she explained, “There’s an energy anomaly that seems to be developing in the vicinity of Exeter, sir. As if power is being collected there, but for what reason and by whom I can’t tell yet. The data do show that the exploding tarn and fire are related to it. And I have a hunch that there may be more of those sorts of things going on, sir.”

  The troopers exchanged glances as Rahoul considered his advisor’s words. Rachel got to her feet and resumed a perch on the Athalstan’s running board. “Can you narrow it down? ‘Exeter’ is a rather vague location for us to be searching, if it comes to that.” Rachel started typing but kept an eye on Col. Selassie, who was in turn eyeing Col. Sandborn. “Selassie, do we have any reports of other phenomena like those Rachel mentioned?”

  The Ethiopian woman nodded. “Yes, sir. Some reports of changing temperatures in wells and streams, a few minor earthquakes up in Scotland and the like. Major de Alba compiled the list and sent it to Rachel.” Selassie gestured towards the xenologist, who typed quickly, pulling up the list and overlaying the locations onto a map. Both officers leaned in to look as Rachel turned the screen so they could see it. “ ‘All roads lead to Exeter’?” the executive officer misquoted.

  Rahoul lifted his cover and ran a hand over neatly trimmed dark brown hair. “So it would seem. Can you narrow it, Commander?”

  She considered the matter. “I think I can. It would be easier if I were back at one of the energy-eruption sites, so I could set up a tracer directly on the line of flow.” Rachel hesitated again as Col. Sandborn walked up to the group, then launched, “And you do remember who had their offices near Exeter, sir?”

  He frowned, dark brown eyes narrowing as he tried to recall what she was talking about. She sent him an image of himself as a captain, listening in as Rachel read someone the riot act in a laboratory. “Oh, yes, Commander, good point. I thought they’d learned their lesson, if they are involved in these . . . ‘eruptions’ you called them?”

  Before she could answer, Sandborn inquired, “Has your advisor seen a professional, Rowdy?” He tapped the side of his head.

  The combination of stress, exhaustion, and irritation with the man’s attitude pushed Rachel’s infamous temper over the edge. “Sir, I am not being irrational,” she snapped, eye sparking. “Someone is trying to tap the basal energy of the Isle of the Mighty. The lethal hot spring that should not have existed is one example of what is going to happen if whoever it is keeps meddling—the energy was not properly channeled and it leaked, transformed into heat. That super-heated the groundwater, which worked up to the surface, laden with minerals, especially sulfur. I doubt Cpl. Anderson is going to live, not after the scalding he received,” Rachel stated firmly. “And that is minor compared to what could happen if this disruption continues. Someone is using extraterrestrial technology without knowing the consequences and they must cease immediately. Unless you want a certain volcano in Scotland to erupt again.”

  Col. Sandborn shook his head, disbelief obvious. “That is the biggest pile of steaming elephant crap I’ve heard in my career. Rowdy, your advisor, or whatever she is, has lost her mind and is a danger to herself as well as to the rest of us.”

  Rahoul ignored the comment for a moment. “You are certain it’s extraterrestrial technology, Commander?”

  “Over
fifty percent certain, sir. There are certain patterns in the distribution of the energy leaks, and I’d be very, very surprised if anyone on this planet had developed technology that could do this sort of thing without outside aid.”

  Khan looked up at the grey sky, absently noting that the clouds had descended and darkened since he’d arrived on scene. “Very well. Commander, I want you and,” he glanced around, “Lt. Grechkaninov, Sgt. Lee, and however many more you need, to see about tracking down the source of the anomalies. Col. Selassie, you and Sigurdson get the others ready to relocate to somewhere convenient.” Now he turned and faced Sandborn. “Colonel, a word,” and he led the reluctant officer farther from the hearing of both the Regulars and the GDF.

  As Rachel packed her gear, Desta observed quietly that, “He doesn’t care for you, Rachel.”

  “So I’ve gathered. Any idea why?” She could think of several dozen, actually.

  The officer pursed her lips. “He knows something. When you mentioned Exeter he flinched.”

  “Hmmm. An interesting observation, ma’am,” Rachel noted quietly, turning her head so that she could look in the direction the two senior officers had gone.

  Rachel and her escort straggled into the Branch’s temporary quarters as a cold rain began falling. The wind had become raw, and Rahoul was quite happy to observe the weather from inside stout walls below a solid roof. He was less than happy to see Sgt. Lee, the other Lee, and Cpl. Hudson carrying their xenologist out of the Athelstan. She appeared to be unconscious.

  “What did she get into this time?” he inquired after the troopers had tucked their advisor away into one of the spare bunks.

  Sergeant Lee gave a small shrug. “Nothing sir, for a change. She passed out from exhaustion, like she did in Germany.”

  An hour later, the Wanderer tapped on the general’s doorframe. He looked up from his laptop and raised black eyebrows in inquiry. “Your pardon, sir. Did Lt. Gretchkaninov give you my notes?”