by Alma Boykin
“Headman. Do you require any assistance?”
The muscular, brown-gray male rubbed under his muzzle with one talon, glanced at the river and at the male beside him, and swirled his strong-side forefoot. “Not really, Lord Mammal. We should be able to get the grain in as planned, and after the first shake we turned off all power to the village and disconnected the damaged houses and other buildings so fire is not a worry yet.”
“Lord Mammal, the river is going to flood,” the older reptile warned, his neck spines up a little.
Rada’s eyebrow rose at the news. “How can you tell, Elder Uncle?”
“Because it floods after large earth shakes. My father’s brother told me about one he saw as a child, before my father was born.”
Rada didn’t doubt the oldster’s pronouncement, although she wondered why she did not remember such an event. Well, since she left for several year-turns at a time, even decades as the Azdhagi lived them, she could easily have missed similar excitement. “Thank you for the warning Elder Uncle. Headman Libo, if you need nothing, then I will leave you to your work. The manor is solid and is ready for any injured if need arises. There is no damage in Burnt Mountain,” she added, since some people had relatives there.
“Good to hear, Lord Mammal,” Libo bowed. “Ancestors be thanked for fair weather and safety.”
“Agreed.” Rada walked back to the vehicle and drove back to the manor.
As the transport rolled away from the river, Rada’s gut began churning and she felt her fur prickling. OK, what is bothering me? Her thoughts returned to the Zhangki River and she grew uneasy. Back at Singing Pines manor, she found that Steward P’nang had left a message confirming the latest reports. After reading the note, Rada stood in the courtyard, looking up at the sky and wondering what disturbed her so much. “Damn it,” she snapped. “Sergeant Taersa, get Night’s Claw ready for a flight.”
Reptiles scurried as Rada changed into a flight suit and added the oxygen mask and aircraft adapters to her combat helmet. Taersa had the plane prepared and the crew out of the way by the time Commander Ni Drako stalked up to the landing area, west of the main manor house. She inspected the aircraft but found nothing wrong. “Good work, Sergeant. I’m going north, visual nav. How much fuel?”
Taersa showed her the weight. “Two hours low-altitude cruise, Lord Defender.”
“Very good. If I need more I’ll divert to Treecrown,” she told him. He saluted and trotted clear of the exhaust field as Rada unlocked the cockpit and clambered up the fuselage, dropping into the pilot’s seat with a thud. Ten minutes later and Night’s Claw, the Lord Defender’s personal fighter aircraft, lifted into the air, pivoted, and began climbing as it flew northbound.
Rada glanced down in time to see a third quake rippling through the Zhangki Valley. Dust, river waves, and swaying trees marked the shockwave’s progress along the ground and Rada whistled silently, impressed by the amount of energy that the moving ground released. She climbed a little higher and rolled inverted for a good view of the Zhangki River.
A stream of liquid mud churned where blue waters once flowed. First one tree, then more bobbed on the yellow-gray torrent. Rada rolled upright and flew north and west towards Zhangki Lake, the river’s unofficial headwaters. The farther upstream Rada passed, the more debris, including chunks of bank and clumps of trees, filled the ever-higher river. “This is not good.” Rada turned on the cockpit recorder and began narrating.
“I’m twenty kliqs downstream of Zhangki Lake. The Zhangki River and three other streams form a lake in an extinct caldera, and the river flows out of the caldera through a porous cliff face,” also known as Greenstone Dam. The living wall sported ferns, mosses, and other small plants in thousands of shades of green, watered by the springs and by mist rising from the waters below and above. Small trickles and rivulets of water emerged from the dark stone and foliage, pooling below the cliff before flowing downstream as the continent’s longest river. Even Rada knew the place, had visited the shrine and park there, admired the feature and thought it might be unique in the Empire. Certainly nothing like it existed anywhere else on Drakon IV. “Now three kliqs from Greenstone Dam, the river has grown much larger and oh shit.” Rada gulped. “Zhangki Lake is draining; the dam breached.”
Rada circled and climbed, muscles moving the plane as her eyes locked on the disaster below. An enormous spout of water shot out of the broken rocks, chewing an ever-larger path as the pressure ripped and clawed the cracked stone. A quarter of the lake had already escaped, Rada guessed. For an instant she considered launching a rocket to try and close the hole by breaking the lip of the cliff, then shook her head. That sort of thing only worked in holo-vids and adventure files. Instead Rada went to full normal power and climbed to five kliqs above sea level, turned back towards Singing Pines, and called Capital Control.
“Capital Control, Ni Drako One.”
After too long of a pause, the transmitter hissed. “Ni Drako One, Capital Control, go ahead.”
“Capital Control, be advised that Greenstone Dam on Zhangki Lake has broken and the river is in flood and rising higher. Repeat, flash flood on the Zhangki River larger than any previously reported. This is an emergency. Warn the estates, over.”
“Greenstone Dam broke?”
“Affirmative. Probably one of the earthquakes.”
“Roger, Ni Drako One, Zhangki is flooding. Will pass the message.”
“Capital Control, that is correct. Ni Drako One clear.” Then Rada switched to the local emergency frequency. “Riverhead Estate, Ni Drako One, emergency, come in Riverhead Estate.”
Almost before she released the microphone switch Rada heard, “This is Riverhead, Ni Drako One, go ahead.”
Rada started a timer as she reported, “Riverhead, Greenstone Dam broke and Zhangki Lake is draining downstream. Extreme flooding coming your way. Evacuate the valley.”
A new voice replied. “Ni Drako One, this is Riverhead One, confirm worse flooding?”
“The worst since the Relocation, Riverhead One. Zhangki Lake is draining.”
“Roger, Ni Drako One. We’ll pick up our pace. Riverhead One clear.”
“Ni Drako One clear.” Rada stopped the timer and ran a calculation or two. Then she slowed the ‘Claw and began descending, aiming for the flattish, cleared area near the river fields at Singing Pines. Azdhagi scattered upslope as she landed, then gathered and watched as she shutdown the engines.
Rada opened the canopy, took off her helmet, and clambered out, not bothering to secure anything but the engines and weapons systems. “Libo!” she yelled.
He ran to meet her. “Yes, Lord Mammal?”
“Get everyone and all the equipment and grain up to the village now! The worst flood ever is coming downstream and it will swamp this,” she swept her arm to encompass the field, dock, and trees.
His neck spines slammed up in fear. “Is the village high enough?” They turned that way. “It’s fifty li above water level.”
“And three kliqs from water’s edge.”
He slapped the ground with his tail. “Right, Lord Defender. If it gets that far, we have a lot of other things to worry about. You,” he bellowed, “get that grain wagon uphill now! You and you, pick up the pace,” and he got the field workers moving as fast as possible.
Rada clambered back into the ‘Claw, ran through the start checklist at combat speed and lifted off as soon as it was clear. “Singing Pines, Ni Drako One.”
“Go ahead, Ni Drako One.”
“Singing Pines, tell P’nang to send everyone to the fields to relocate the harvest. Flood approaching rapidly. And tell him to prepare for refugees. And warn Riverview and Blue Hills of the flood. It will be worse than any flood imaginable.”
“Ni Drako One, will send people to the fields, will prepare for refugees and will warn Riverview and Blue Hills,” the communications tech affirmed. “Singing Pines clear.”
“Ni Drako One clear,” and Rada climbed a few thousand li more, t
urning to follow the river downstream.
A few moments later, “Ni Drako One, Singing Pines, Crown.” It was a relay from the capital through Singing Pines, because Night’s Claw was too low to receive the signal directly.
“Singing Pines, Ni Drako One, go ahead.”
“Crown Control to Ni Drako One, report to the capital at wartime speed in order to brief His Imperial Majesty on the situation, over.” Rada heard hesitation in the reptile’s voice.
“Ni Drako One proceeding to the capital,” she snapped, not trying to hide her irritation. She lifted her hand from the transmit switch and growled, “A little late, Imperial Majesty? What the fuzz are you thinking, scaly idiot?” She needed to be preparing Lan-zhe’s estates for the disaster, not flying in person to give him an eyewitness account. Rada clenched her teeth as she commanded the navigation system to give her a direct heading to the palace-capital complex over 250 kliqs away. As it calculated, Rada realized that she had not heard any central emergency broadcast about the flood. What in the blazes is Palace doing? Do they want people to die?
Rada turned east-southeast and climbed Night’s Claw up to seven kliqs above sea-level, in order to maximize both fuel and radio range. “Palace Control, Ni Drako One.”
Another too-long pause before Rada heard, “Ni Drako One, Palace Control, go ahead.”
Rada chose her words with great care. “Palace Control, Ni Drako wishes to confirm that you are aware that the Greenstone Dam has collapsed and that the Zhangki River is flooding the valley?”
“Affirmative, Ni Drako One. Palace is aware. Broadcast of the information is restricted for domestic reasons.”
Oh fuck you, your domestic politics, and the talkak that spawned you, Rada snarled silently. “Understood. Ni Drako out.” She reduced power and dove below the palace’s basic radio reception altitude. Rada called up the local emergency and manor specific radio frequencies and began transmitting in the blind. “Emergency, emergency. Greenstone Dam has broken. Flood on the Zhangki, repeat major flood on the Zhangki, travelling fifty kliqs per hour. Emergency.” Rada repeated her call four times before a second voice chimed in, then a third, as manor communicators began passing the word downstream. Satisfied, Rada turned back to the river.
A tidal wave surged towards the lowlands, white tongues of foam licking the quieter waters ahead of the surge. Slimy-looking brown and yellow-gray water spread over the floodplain and beyond, devouring fields and pastures and a few hamlets. Trees, rocks, chunks of grassy bank, and what looked like a few bodies and houses tumbled along with the enormous, ravenous river. Rada imagined that she could hear the roar over the sound of the engines and the hiss of her radios. She stayed with the flood for twenty minutes but did not see anyone in the fields. Perhaps her message had reached everyone. Rada glanced at her fuel gauges, winced, and turned towards the Palace, climbing again as she did.
Her radio buzzed, “Ni Drako One, Palace Control.” Rada heard ice in the new voice.
“Palace Control, go ahead.”
“Ni Drako One, return to Singing Pines and await further instructions.”
“Wilco, Ni Drako One.”
“Palace Control out.” Rada reversed course, slowed down to conserve fuel, and landed at Singing Pines with just her emergency reserve. She took her time shutting down all systems, made note of any problems, disconnected her safety equipment and oxygen mask, and then climbed down the fuselage. “Sergeant Taersa, she’s going to be thirsty.”
“Understood, Lord Mammal.”
As Rada limped back towards the manor, Kslee, P’nang’s youngest assistant, ran to meet her, his neck spines up with agitation. “Lord Mammal, Blue Hills village was destroyed by the flood. There are many injured. Head Steward P’nang told the villagers to come here, because we are closest to them. Do you concur?”
Rada gestured her agreement and began running as best she could towards the keep. “He did right. How many are coming?”
“They do not know, Lord Mammal. They are still pulling people out of wreckage.”
The Wanderer stopped and stared at the reptile with utter disbelief before bolting for the main gates. She pounded up the closest ramp and skidded to a halt at the door of the communications center. She threw open the door to P’nang’s office and barged in on P’nang and Libo. “Head steward, what happened at Blue Hills?”
Both reptiles surged onto their hind legs, defensive. “Lord Mammal, the honored Lord Blee, ah, that is . . .”
Rada cut him off, white hot with rage. “Blee failed to inform his workers of the flood, didn’t he? Don’t say anything, just settle down if my words are true.” Libo and P’nang dropped back onto all feet. Rada barely managed to stop herself from saying something her subordinates should not hear. “P’nang, Libo, have you sent anyone over to help the survivors?”
They studied the floor tiles. “Not yet, Lord Mammal.”
“Do it, as many as you think we can spare.” She backed out of the way as the two males hurried to do her bidding. Rada dragged herself into her quarters and sagged gracelessly onto the guest bench by the door, her head in her hands. Dear Lord, what kind of monsters is this generation of nobility? Damned, selfish, stupid, heartless, irresponsible, hair-covered stormcatches the lot of them! The silent tirade continued for a dozen heartbeats before Rada stood up and limped out to meet two of the soldiers coming up the hall by the communications center.
“Good, just the people I needed to see. We need to be ready for problems with the incoming refugees,” Rada began.
The tech on duty poked his muzzle out of the comm center door, interrupting, “Um, Lord Ni Drako? An urgent Crown message needs your authentication.”
The mammal hesitated. Oh hells. Right, trust your people to know their jobs, she reminded herself. “Sergeant, you know what needs to be done. Go do it.” The tech fled as Rada sat down and entered her codes. The message printed instead of appearing on the display screen and Rada picked it up. Her hands began shaking with fury before the end of the first short paragraph. Somehow she mastered her temper and sent a properly respectful response. “Ni Drako understands and obeys his Imperial Majesty’s command. By my forefoot, Rada Lord Ni Drako.” Rada signed out and returned to her quarters, locking the door. She flopped onto her back on the padded sleeping platform and stared at the ceiling timbers.
“Lan-zhe,” she began hissing in German, the most obscure language she could think of. “Lan-zhe, you may be King-Emperor. And Blee, you may be a Great Lord and outrank me, but the two of you are scum. No, you are lower than scum; you are what scum shits. You call me disobedient and disrespectful, Lan-zhe, for trying to save the lives of your people. You give an order I cannot obey without breaking my vows, then order me to await your punishment? May your scales fall off, may your manhood wither until it reflects the size of your conscience and may your mates laugh when they see the shriveled remains. Blee, may the Bookkeeper enter nothing but debits to your account, and may the Debt Collector collect from your hide, turning it into parchment for the next volume of the Ledger.”
Four days later, Rada stood on the wall-top walkway once again, staring up at the night sky. Singing Pines suffered damage to the fields, and repairing the dock, plowing in the silt and removing debris would take most of winter. But the harvest, save for a tiny amount, now reposed safe in the granaries. Although Riverview lost most of its fields, no people or livestock had died. But Blue Hills, oh, her heart ached for the people from Blue Hills, and Rada wanted to hurt Lord Blee. Blue Hills village sat, or had sat, much closer to the Zhangki, and Blee’s steward, fearing his lord’s wrath, refused to allow the harvest to stop even long enough to help evacuate the village. Those trapped in their houses or trying to help the injured had died in the flood that followed the earth-shake. Blue Hills lost almost a third of its people, washed into the Dividing Sea. Why? Rada asked the Universe yet again. Why don’t creatures like Blee die of gut rot?
And the King-Emperor inspired special wrath, wrath that Rada just now felt t
oo tired to feed any farther. “Didn’t you hear, Ni Drako? There’s a grain purchase negotiation in progress, with the Teelpoubn,” Great Lord Kirlin had informed her. “If word gets out, the prices may go up, so of course his Imperial–Majesty and his advisors wanted to keep news of the pending flood losses quiet.” Blee happened to be one of those councilors. Did you see their bodies, your people’s bodies, as they rolled on the waves past the Palace? Rada asked silently.
But even more Azdhagi rose to the occasion and Rada thanked her god for Libo and P’nang. They’d organized shelter and food when it became apparent how many people needed aid. Rada and the Singing Pines Healer did what they could, and the Defenders with Lord Ni Drako kept the peace and organized the first camp the night after the flood. Rada smiled at the memory of P’nang, very apologetic, admitting, “Lord Mammal, I, I confess that I ordered the mates and older female juniors of the manor staff to assist with cooking, cleaning and caring for the females and juniors.” He’d sagged on his feet, sure that Lord Ni Drako would punish him.
“Steward P’nang, that was an excellent decision. This is a most unusual situation and you found an unusual solution. I compliment your judgment and forgive you.” Rada had praised P’nang in her report to Lan-zhe, explaining how he and Libo had saved the King-Emperor’s revenues, equipment, and other property. “Have you found accommodations for our ‘guests’ yet?”
“Yes, Lord Mammal, and the royal chambers have also been cleaned and aired, appropriate dishes planned for the meals after mid-day tomorrow, and all available manor staff will be present.” Rada had nodded at his words and the two exchanged grave looks. She’d sent some of the farm managers to Burnt Mountain “to check on the crops and supplies” and to get them out of communication range. The central granaries needed to be fumigated and prepared before the kurstem could go into winter storage, something they could oversee since they had “missed the message.” And Rada would take the blame, since she was taking all the rest of it anyway.
