Between Flood and Flame (A Cat Among Dragons Book 6)

by Alma Boykin

  “None that I’ve received, my lord,” the mammal sighed. “But the Royal Meteorology Office forecasts a slight chance of dry thunderstorms. On the good side, there are no hints of geologic activity,” she offered, trying to sweeten the news.

  Oragi shook his head while making an Azdhag negation motion with his forefoot. “Damn. I was hoping for a miracle.” His image shrank, then returned to normal size. “I’m sending you the latest timber report, so you can forward the news.” Rada leaned over and turned on the secondary computer screen so that she could read and still talk. “The cold winter plus the beetles killed far more trees than forecast, Lord Ni Drako,” he reported in the formal language of an official intra-governmental memo.

  Rada scrolled through the details until she found a map and total number of square kilometers affected. She winced. “Indeed. Have precautionary timber harvests begun, my lord?”

  “They have, but House Moytu and House Howland would welcome assistance from the Royal Foresters. I have attached a timber-sharing proposal to the timber report, so that His Imperial Majesty can consider our offer.” He started to add more but turned away, removing the converter. Rada caught a glimpse of a reddish-brown tail-tip waving just at the edge of the visual sensor. Oragi returned and jammed the converter back onto his skull. “Fire. Here’s Horsa.”

  Rada quickly saved the sent documents, then cleared the screen so she could call her own foresters if needed. As she worked, House Moytu’s chief fire warden, Horsa, adjusted the tele-converter to fit his broader skull. “Lord Ni Drako, we have a potential situation on Black Flag Mountain, near the oil-wood test plantation.”

  Oh fewmets. Icy fingers seemed to run up and down the mammal’s neck and her non-existent fur rose. “How can Singing Pines assist you?”

  “For the moment we’re holding the line, but the wind forecast,” he hesitated. “Pardon my language, my lord, but it stinks worse than four-days-dead talkak eggs laid beside a hot spring in a nest of run-away bush.” Rada almost pinched her nose at the thought.

  “No offense taken. I’ll alert my people and fire crews, and I will contact the Capital about tankers and aerial assistance.” Lord Oragi had been asking for tankers on standby for the past few weeks, with no success. Maybe she’d have better luck. And maybe Zabet will take a vow of celibacy and poverty a nasty little voice in her mind whispered.

  Horsa’s whiskers fluttered and his ears began tipping forward with relief. “Thank you, Lord Mammal. House Moytu will keep you informed of the situation.”

  “You are welcome and please do.”

  Lord Oragi reappeared. “This overrides my other news, Ni Drako. We’ll send you updates.”

  “Understood and thanks.”

  “Moytu out,” and the projection faded away. Rada copied the dead-timber map from the House’s report to the crown and saved it, then forwarded the message under House Ni Drako’s seal. She leaned back in her chair, tapping her teeth with a spare writing stick and trying to decide what to do next. She knew grass fire survival techniques all too well. Forest fires, especially ones in terrain as rugged as the Wildlands bordering Moytu and Howland, were another time-weave entirely. She’d seen images of fire in oil-wood stands before, and Rada sent up a prayer for whoever had to protect or put out the test forest. She got up to stretch and pulled on a skirt. It would be cooler than breeches.

  Rada called Burnt Mountain lodge and left a message for Korlee, the chief forester for both Burnt Mountain and Singing Pines, and ordered him to pass the word to Sskara, the estate’s fire expert. As she considered what to do next, someone scratched on her door. “Enter,” she called. The heavy wooden panel swung open enough to allow P’nang, the royal steward who ran the two estates, to slip into the chamber. He bowed.

  “Yes, P’nang?”

  “There is a message for you from court, Lord Mammal. It concerns your request for fire fighting equipment and requires your personal authentication.” The green-brown reptile kept his voice and body neutral, not wanting to attract the mammal’s ire.

  Rada’s own tone revealed nothing of her own feelings. “Thank you, Steward. Please have the kitchen prepare some forest food, enough for,” she thought a moment. “For me and three active Azdhagi for three days in the field. I may be going out with my guards and two staff members.”

  He bowed again. “Yes, Lord Mammal,” and turned around carefully, mindful of both his thick tail and the thin legs of the daimyo’s computer stand. P’nang swung the door half-shut with his hind foot. Rada stretched, stood up and put on her lightest body armor before pulling her hair up into a crown of braids. She added a shirt over the armor, double-checked that she’d gotten all the morning’s dirt off, stuffed her feet into a pair of low boots, then limped out of her quarters, down the corridor and around a corner, past her official office and work room to the manor’s communications suite. As Lord Defender of Drakon IV, Commander Ni Drako needed access to all the communications and satellite data at all times, even when theoretically on leave. She tapped the knocker to warn the tech on duty before opening the door.

  Corporal Slee got to his feet and bowed as Rada entered the crowded room. “Lord Mammal” he gestured towards his bench and equipment.

  “Thank you, Slee. Go wait in the corridor, stretch your legs if you need to,” she ordered, squeezing to the side so the broad reptile could ease out past her.

  She did not have to order twice. “Yes, my lord,” and he darted out the door. She heard his footsteps accelerate and she grinned as she settled onto the bench. Who had one too many cups of tea with the morning meal, hmmm? Rada entered her authentication code and waited as the signal bounced up to a relay satellite, over to the capital-palace, and then returned. Equipment test month always slowed communications, the mammal reminded herself. Sure enough, an automated apology for the delay flashed onto the screen for a few seconds before the message appeared.

  Ni Drako vibrated with suppressed anger after reading the message. “Lord Ni Drako,” the missive began. “No fire protection or tanker aircraft are available at this time. We have received the requests from House Moytu and House Howland as well as from the Daimyo of Singing Pines and Burnt Mountain, but there are higher priorities for the equipment and personnel. By Our talon and will, Lan-zhe, King-Emperor of Azdhag IV,” et cetera. Rada studied the seals printed on the page as she counted backwards from two hundred in Azdhag.

  Should she be angry or very, very worried? Rada entered a different authentication and access code, tapping into the Defenders’ computer system. Once in, the Lord Defender called up the latest fire map. She counted six currently reported and confirmed, including two fires on the central plains, one in the southern hills and three in the Wildlands. House Moytu’s fire failed to appear but the data were several hours old and Rada knew how quickly conditions changed this time of year. She also looked for any messages or alerts and found none. That’s a relief, she sighed as she logged out of the network. I just might get my disasters one at a time for a change.

  Instead of returning to her quarters Rada walked down a treaded ramp, around a corner and along a loggia to the barracks built into Singing Pines manor. “At ease,” she called as she entered the main wardroom. Eight male reptiles in various stages of activity hurried into the room and came to attention. “At ease,” she repeated, looking around. “Where is Sgt. Taersa?”

  “Sgt. Taersa is supervising a repair on the half-hover, sir,” Sgt. Stayer reported.

  “Thank you,” and Rada saw herself out before any of the soldiers could get the door for her. She hugged the narrow shadow by the southern wall of the building and then took her time walking from the main gate to the landing and staging area. Sgt. Taersa’s tail swished back and forth from the side-door of the Lord Defender’s current transport aircraft. Rada dodged the tail as it began slapping up and down, reflecting the sergeant’s irritation with someone or something.

  “Problem, Sergeant?”

  A disgusted voice growled, “In a just world, the an
cestors would disown every incompetent electrician and would condemn whoever bought wiring harnesses from the lowest bidder to spending eternity tracing faults in a live circuit.” Rada kept well clear as the pilot squirmed out from in between the two benches in the cockpit. The grey and tan reptile rolled upright, realized that he still faced the wrong way, and backed completely out of the plane, then reentered. “Yes, Lord Mammal, there is a problem. The secondary communications radio has gone on midsummer leave and took the navigation computer with it.”

  “Meaning what, exactly, Sergeant?”

  He rubbed under his muzzle with a talon as he shrugged his tail. “Only emergency and combat communications, and we have to navigate by chart and eyeball until someone can trace the fault and replace the affected wires.” Rada swung her right hand in and up, mimicking a concerned forefoot gesture and Taersa replied with a forefoot and tail negation. “We can fly, my lord, just not over the ocean. And I’d prefer to stay out of clouds, unless it is a formation flight with you in the lead, Lord Mammal.”

  “I’d prefer not to fly over the ocean in this, Sergeant,” and Rada slapped the worn-bare metal of the fuselage decking. “Is there a way to add water or foam-drop capability to this aircraft?”

  His emphatic negation almost knocked his tool-roll out of the vehicle. “No, Lord Mammal. We’d need to remove the floor and hull skin, reinforce bulkheads and reroute wiring and hydraulics, and that is assuming bucket fill and drop, not trying to tanker water or slurry from somewhere. And I’m not skilled enough to fly that sort of mission, my lord.”

  Rada stared at her pilot and folded her arms. “Are you ill? I’ve never heard a pilot, especially not an Azdhag, admit inability; at least not while sober.”

  He rumpled his tail in another shrug. “I have allergies, my lord.”

  “Allergies.”

  “Yes, my lord. My scales fall off when I collide with mountains and burning trees.” His tail-tip shivered with suppressed laughter and Rada snorted.

  “Since I do not care to find the Judges of Hell bearing down on me, each carrying a mountain of equipment loss forms, I will do my best not trigger your allergy, Sergeant. However, we need to be ready to move five or six people to House Moytu’s landing area on short notice.”

  He dipped his head in a bow. “Yes, Lord Mammal.”

  She slid out of the aircraft’s crew compartment, adding, “And be ready for multiple evacuation runs in and out of the Wildlands, Taersa. Azdhagi as well as True-dragon juniors, and some may have medical problems.”

  “Yes, Lord Mammal.” The sergeant waited until his commanding officer left to wiggle back under the electronics panel. He removed the offending radio and navigation computer and then capped off the power-supplies, just as a precaution. It would be gut feeling and eyeball flying for the next sixt or so. Things always broke at the worst time.

  Back in her quarters, Rada studied her equipment options and could have kicked herself. She had nothing suitable for firefighting, especially not for head protection. Her combat uniform’s flame resistant materials only held a two minute rating and the last time Rada had checked, it took a lot more than two minutes to escape a forest fire. “Well, hairballs,” the mammal grumped, picking up her favorite helmet and tossing it from hand to hand as she thought. She could wear nothing made of synthetic materials aside from her uniform, because everything else she had with her would melt rather than burning. Of the “natural” fibers, summer-weight tree-fluff burned very quickly because of the nap in the weave, and Rada snorted with black humor at a vision of her clothing going up in a “poof!” and leaving her in her body armor and hide as the True-dragons snickered. That left silk, smoke-bloom fiber, and hard-woven tooroi twill. “Well, I probably won’t need it because the Houses will keep things under control,” she reminded herself yet again.

  “Clop, clop.”

  “Yes?”

  A servant opened on the door, interrupting her contemplations with a most welcome plate of cold savories.

  As Rada popped a chilled fruit and grain ball into her mouth and dreamed of blizzards, Lord Oragi cursed King-Emperor Lan-zhe’s ancestors, person, and all known descendants. “Damn him to every known Azdhagi hell.” The True-dragons needed tankers and water-drop aircraft and the king refused to help them. Oragi wanted to curse Lord Ni Drako as well but the mammal had tried, which was more than most Azdhagi did. Oragi forced himself to send a polite response, acknowledging the King-Emperor’s message and sending his own reply to Ni Drako. He signed out of the network and left his work area in House Moytu’s main cavern complex, intending to check on the latest results from the cloud-capture experiments. As he rounded a curve in the passageway, he collided with a young female running as fast as her legs would carry her.

  “Oof!” the much smaller reptile puffed, rolling backwards with the force of impact. “Lord Oragi,” she panted, looking up from her sprawl. “Lord Oragi, Horsa needs you. The fire lines are breached and Black Valley settlement is threatened.”

  Oragi turned around and rushed back to his work area. He logged back into the House network and called Lord Ni Drako. “We need help, all you can spare,” he sent. Oragi logged back out and hurried to meet Horsa at the improvised fire response command center.

  One hour before sunrise the next morning, Rada’s half-hover touched down at Burnt Mountain settlement just long enough for Korlee, the chief forester, and the fire expert Sskara to toss their equipment behind the cargo net and clamber aboard before the aircraft lumbered back into the air, heading west-southwest. The reptiles belted themselves in and then gave their daimyo a sketchy salute. Ni Drako, back in her true form, returned the gesture from the co-pilot’s position. She turned on her intercom, asking “Any more news?”

  “Yes and no, Lord Mammal,” Korlee began. “Yes, the fire jumped Moytu’s initial lines yesterday afternoon. Yes, a new fire started from a lightning strike overnight but Howland’s crew jumped onto it and put it out. No, I have not heard anything since midnight, Lord Mammal.” Korlee looked at the pile of supplies strapped in beside him. “Are these for us?”

  “Affirmative.” Ni Drako twisted around and patted the top of a case with her forefoot. “Food, tools, fuel adapter for the half-hover, and some other things. Moytu and Howland don’t need to be supplying us as well as their own people.”

  Sskara gestured his understanding. He shifted on his bench before staring out the small window. “Are we really below the top of the mountains, Lord Mammal?”

  “Affirmative. We’re following Stinking Spring creek to Half-Burnt Pass, then turning north from there to reach Moytu Center.” Rada turned back to her task of navigating and communicating so that Taersa could concentrate on flying. Without the navigation computer, the autopilot kept cycling and refusing to accept manual inputs until Taersa made a quick rude gesture and shut it off entirely. Rada made a note on her pocket data pad to scream at whoever had approved the bid specifications for that piece of equipment.

  Taersa had left his vent window open and everyone knew when the aircraft passed Stinking Spring. “Well named,” Ni Drako observed, “heading three zero five. Minimum clearing altitude seven thousand three hundred li.”

  The aircraft banked. “Three zero five, seven point three, and agreed, Ground One.” Ni Drako watched carefully as Taersa guided the half-hover around the shoulder of a mountain, climbing as he did so. The dark stones of Half-Burnt Pass loomed ahead and they cleared the summit easily. “Don’t want to do that this afternoon, Ground One,” Taersa opined.

  “Concur.” They could see dirty-white smoke and Rada imagined that she smelled it as well. The sun had set orangy red behind Stub Mountain the night before, warning the residents of Singing Pines and Burnt Mountain of the extreme fire danger. Rada switched on her intercom again. “Korlee, how many could we muster?”

  “Three forefeet, Lord Mammal, in three vehicles with hydro-haulers. They are coming by the north road. With the weather forecast I didn’t want to strip us bare,” Korlee explain
ed.

  Rada waved her strong-side forefoot, showing her understanding. “Good. There’s no point in saving the neighbor while your own den burns.” And it would keep Lan-zhe from accusing them of either not helping or of neglecting his property.

  “Heading zero two zero and five kliqs,” Rada informed her pilot, leaning forward to peer out the windscreen as she did.

  “Zero two zero and five, affirmative. Density altitude check.” Taersa turned the plane slightly, pinching his nostrils closed at the thick smoke smell before flipping the little window shut. Rada turned off the vents as well.

  “Density altitude six thousand,” Rada told him.

  “Six thousand,” he read back, adjusting the marking bug on the airspeed indicator. He’d need to adjust his approach speed somewhat, since they were not planning on a hover landing. “Bench straps.”

  Rada tightened her seat belts and looked behind her. “Tighten your bench straps and stow your gear,” she warned the passengers.

  The males did as ordered and Rada turned back to watch the landing. “Passengers and cargo secure for landing.”

  “Wheels down.”

  Rada looked at the indicator lights and the external mirror. “Wheels down confirm.” She could see the landing area and the piles of goods and equipment behind a temporary fence. Taersa confirmed his landing clearance with Moytu Control before lowering the nose of the half-hover, guiding the plane in for a firm and short landing.

  “We have company three kliqs behind,” he explained as he taxied as fast as was safe. A True-dragon waving bright orange and red flags caught their eyes and guided the aircraft to a parking spot. For once Rada waited until the engines stopped before unbuckling and making her ungraceful way out of the cabin.

  “Lord Ni Drako?” a young True-dragon asked. “This way, please.” Rada waited until her forester and fire specialist disembarked before following the other reptile. “Lord Ni Drako, we are using audio adapters,” the youngster explained as they walked.