Hairballs (A Cat Among Dragons Story) Read online

  A Cat Among Dragons Story

  Kindle edition 2013

  Alma T C Boykin

  Cover Design by Saul Bottcher,

  Cover Illustration by Anthony Perri,

  Editing by Nassau Hedron, and

  EPUB preparation by Saul Bottcher,

  all on behalf of IndieBookLauncher.com

  Published by

  IndieBookLauncher.com

  (Wanderer's Cove Entertainment, Inc.)

  EPUB edition ISBN: 978-0-9916877-2-5

  Kindle edition ISBN: 978-0-9916877-3-2

  Copyright 2013 Alma T C Boykin, all rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Hairballs

  About The Author

  Hairballs

  It all started with drinks at a bar and a bright idea.

  In this case, trouble originated at the Runaway Comet, the nondescript watering hole where the Scouts from the Adamantine Division slaked their thirsts and released steam from time to time. Captains Rada Ni Drako and Yori dar Ohrkan, along with Major Soliman Ssiliar and a few other people who should have known better, trickled into the bar over the course of an hour. The Scouts had returned from the Adamantine Division’s latest contract the day before and Morlee, the Rowfow tending the bar that night, noticed how subdued the group seemed. The tavern’s owner had warned him that subdued Scouts tended to metamorphose without warning into inventive and mischievous Scouts, and Morlee flipped a discrete switch, activating the protective shield over the beverage display.

  “Black diamond, heavy glitter,” Soliman ordered, sliding his credit ring across the top of the bar. The reptile glanced around and stalked to a table at the back of the bar, trading one of the chairs for a stool.

  “Tirbal dark,” Yori dar Ohrkan decided, adding, “large, please,” when Morlee reached for the smaller mug. “And something fried.” The HalfDragon waited until the barkeep scraped a little foam off the top of the mug. Then Yori, mug in hand, joined Ssiliar at the back corner table.

  Rada Ni Drako studied the rows of potions, glanced at her companions, and sighed, “A small keritang, please.” She handed her credit ring over. Morlee returned the ring along with a small mug of red amber liquid and a large glass of water. “Spoilsport,” Rada grumbled under her breath. “Thank you,” she said a bit louder. The Wanderer hybrid wove her way between the tables to the back of the bar. Soliman kicked the stool out from under the table and Rada sat on it before setting her drink down. A delivery robot trundled up, carrying Soliman’s drink and a plate and a basket of assorted snacks. Yori grabbed one of the fried bits, popped it into his mouth, and instantly regretted it.

  “Hot?” Soliman inquired as Rada snickered.

  Yori felt his face flushing as sweat broke out on his forehead. The hot pepper burned his mouth and his stomach and everything in between, and he stole almost half of Rada’s water trying to quench the flames. “Just a little. Fresh batch.”

  Several more Scouts joined their officers at other seats near the back of the bar. The robot returned with more drinks and a second glass of water for Rada, who leaned around Yori and glared at Morlee’s back. A careful observer would have noted that, aside from Yori’s attempt at fire eating, no one nibbled on or drank anything. Several minutes passed until the last of the group found a place to sit. Soliman looked around, nodded to himself and stood up. The chatter stilled. “Well done, Scouts. Col. Adamski sends his compliments.” He reached for his drink and the others rose to their feet, drinks in hand or forefoot. “To absent comrades.”

  “To absent comrades,” they chorused, all drinking together. Soliman returned to his seat and the other Scouts also sat, then began conversing, drinking, and trying to unwind. Yori savored his beer and watched Rada sip her keritang.

  Soliman noticed as well. “Bad batch?”

  Rada shook her head. “No, sir. Just do not want to get too mellow tonight.”

  “From that little glass?” Yori held his mug out beside Rada’s. “That’s barely a quarter of a real drink.”

  “For you. Another one of these on an empty stomach and I’ll be dancing on the table tonight and wishing someone’s god would take me tomorrow.” Rada drank a large swallow of water before sipping the keritang again.

  Now it was Yori’s turn to shake his head. He hated keritang’s flavor. The HalfDragon much preferred beer, thank you. “How is Korlo?”

  Rada glanced at Soliman, who happened to be watching a waitress flutter her tail in his direction. “He’s fine, or will be in a few days. Korlo’s uniform and armor caught most of the debris, and he’s up to date on his anti-radiation treatments, so there should not be any long-term harm.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Yori shuddered and drank half his beer in one pull. He never, ever wanted to see another nuclear fission blast in person. “Is this going to be your usual shape from now on?” He gestured with his free hand towards Rada’s ears and tail.

  “Yeeeeesss.” Rada gave her fellow soldier a wary look and hunched her shoulders, as if expecting trouble.

  Soliman reached over, grabbed her shoulder, squeezed it, and shook Rada in a friendly way. “Good. We like you this way. You seem more relaxed.”

  “And you’ve got an extra handle we can use to pull you out of bar fights,” Yori pointed out, reaching for the appendage in question.

  Rada flashed her very sharp claws at the HalfDragon. “Do not touch,” she hissed, ears flat against her skull.

  Yori leaned back, hands spread. “Easy, Rada. I was just kidding.”

  “Sorry, Awful Clawful. Part of my spinal cord runs through that ‘extra handle,’ as you call it.” Her ears returned to half-staff but her claws remained out as Rada took a sip of water. She used one claw to spear a fried thing from the basket and popped the bit into her mouth. She drooped, swallowed, and sighed, “Mealy root. I can’t win.”

  “Mealy root? All mine, then,” and Soliman confiscated the basket.

  The officers kept an eye on the other Scouts, but no one seemed interested in doing more than drinking and eating bar food. One table grew quiet and Rada eased off her stool, sauntering past the cluster of troopers on her way to visit the latrine. She came back past a different table, giving Soliman a discrete “all clear” hand sign before resuming her seat. “Sports scores and contract changes. Someone’s getting traded but no one is sure to where yet,” she explained.

  Yori snorted before draining half of his beer. “Waste of money.”

  The barmaid jabbed him with her tail a she slid a plate of mixed meats towards Rada, who caught it without looking. “Right, Lieutenant, and who lost a hundred credits to Sgt. Lepork and eighty credits to Morlee over the results of the Centauri Beta to Mork’s Star race six months ago? Refill, Major?”

  “Yes, please, Sleerko, and Yori made captain a few weeks ago,” Soliman replied. Yori sank down in his seat, trying to hide as Rada pretended to ignore him in favor of her meat plate. Yori realized after a moment that she really was ignoring him in favor of devouring thick slabs of dried and smoked meats. He straightened up and had more beer.

  “Thinking of tails and other appendages, Yori, Rada,” Soliman began. “Have you heard any reports on the new armor prototypes that Adamski is looking at?”

  “No, sir,” Yori shook his head.

  “Ngf,” Rada grunted, mouth full. She finished chewing, swallowed, and tried again. “Not exactly, although I caught a rumor that they provide strength at the expense of dexterity and speed.”

  “Ksssssss,” the reptilian major hissed, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “Not acceptable if true.”

  Yori crunched more of his snack. �
�What does Major Gupta think of them?”

  “He’s been too busy to evaluate them,” Rada answered. “Remember that great new information collation package Kirof had installed?”

  That would be Lt. Col. Kirko Kirof, the recently departed head of communications and intelligence, Yori remembered. “I heard that one had been acquired,” the HalfDragon said.

  “Let me guess, Rada. It failed to live up to the sales material.” Soliman held his glass up for a refill and Sleerko whisked it out of his forefoot as she hurried past.

  “Apparently ‘demo’ stood for demolition because that’s what they are having to do in order to remove it from the central computers. Had more data taps in the program than the Runaway Comet has dispensing spigots,” Rada confirmed. “Sgt. Korlo said that he heard Major Gupta threatening to ram his horn up the elimination orifice of the software salesman and Kirof both if he ever caught them. So no armor eval from him.”

  Soliman grunted and made an elaborate forefoot gesture expressing his opinion of the situation. Rada tried to mimic it under the table and failed. Soliman had more joints in each finger than she did. The major finished his second drink. “Stay as you are,” he ordered. “Good night.” He got up, winding his way between the Scouts’ tables, saying something here and patting a shoulder there. Rada and Yori carefully looked the other way when the senior officer sidled up to the bar and left a message for Sleerko.

  “I admire his persistence. I question his sanity,” Yori muttered, giving Rada a significant look.

  She rumpled her tail in a shrug. “He’s a grown-up. If he can’t figure out what ‘no, thank you, no, scat, shoo, no, be gone foul letch’ means, it’s his problem.” She finished her keritang and sipped more water. “Sounds like our problem is the armor.”

  Lt. Odil Hamsa approached the captains and gestured that he had a question. “Yes?”

  “Cap’n, have you ‘eard anything ‘bout us getting exo-armor?”

  Rada and Yori exchanged glances. “Nothing more than you have,” he answered. “Why?”

  “Well,” the cylindrical insect leaned towards the two and lowered his voice. “Lieutenant ‘atloh ‘ad an idea ‘bout how we can test the sets that the Old Bird got, see if the rumors about them are true.”

  Batloh has an idea, Rada sent silently to Yori. You thinking what I’m thinking?

  Yori warned Hamsa, “This idea had better not involve sneaking into the depot and borrowing the armor for a test run.” At the same time he answered Rada, oh yeah.

  Hamsa confirmed their fears. “Well, ‘atloh says that based on ‘er experience. . .”

  “No,” the two captains chorused. Rada continued, “don’t say anything more, Hamsa. The answer is no.”

  Hamsa drooped as much as his exoskeleton permitted. “Yes, ma’am. Sir.”

  Rada and Yori finished their drinks and left the Runaway Comet after speaking with the soldiers under their commands. They’d gotten halfway back to the Adamantine Division’s base gates when Yori inquired, “did they ever fix that dead spot in the fence around the equipment testing area?”

  “Not that I know . . .” Rada caught herself. “Oh no, Awful Clawful. You are not proposing sneaking into the storage depot and ‘borrowing’ some of that armor without having any training or permission.”

  Yori looked down at the top of Rada’s head. “Of course not. I just want to be ready in case someone else does.” When does the guard change?

  Rada could sense Yori’s professional concern, determination, and building sense of mischief, and groaned silently. Nothing short of Col. Ingwe Adamski or the arrival of Yori’s god, whoever that was, would stop the HalfDragon when he reached this stage. All she could hope to do was limit the damage, and she replied, Twenty minutes after midnight. What do you want to test? Dexterity, strength, or flexibility?

  “Meet me there. I’ll see if KssTali has any evening plans.” Yori’s eyes started shifting from blue to gold in his excitement.

  “Eyes, Awful,” Rada reminded him.

  He checked himself, calming down until he regained full control. “Got it.”

  Lt. KssTali brought his smallest data recorder and Lt. Hamsa, who had just returned from the bar. Rada, the senior officer, took charge. First she ran a quick check and confirmed that the dead spot in the fence remained dead and told KssTali, “Open it. Hamsa, you and Yori get the armor while I program the filters and baffles.”

  “Wilko,” and the two hurried off.

  KssTali opened a gap in the shielding with practiced ease, drawing a warped smile from Capt. Ni Drako. Rada trotted over to the main external field control panel for the test area, turning off the alarms and studying the options. She thought aloud, “right. Not worried about blast shielding or sound damping, so that leaves opacity and light control, and hmmm.” She rubbed behind one ear. “KssTali,” she called quietly, “you heard anything about the suits having jump boost?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Right.” Rada entered in the codes for the appropriate filters. She patted the ground with her foot, resisting the urge to go look for Yori and Hamsa. They appeared soon enough, lugging the carriers for the armor. “Well, that’s a problem right there,” Rada hissed. If Yori had to work hard to move the things, some of the smaller Scouts would be at real disadvantages in an emergency. She noted that each set of armor came with two testing blades, which gave her an idea. As soon as everyone had entered the test area, Rada reactivated the exterior barrier.

  The four soldiers studied the equipment. “It’s heavier than it looks,” Hamsa observed, shaking his head.

  “Does it have instructions?” KssTali inquired, peering into the built-on helmet. He slid his hands along the inside. “Don’t like this,” and he pointed to where some of the padding extended. Or were those sensor interfaces, Rada wondered. “That’s going to interfere with our headsets.”

  Yori looked at the problem. “No it won’t.” Rada and KssTali both pointed to their ears. “Oh, yeah. Maybe the demo models are preset for side-ear bipeds and we can tailor them to suit our own needs,” he suggested.

  “Mmmmm. Well, time’s flowing,” Rada reminded them. KssTali and Hamsa went first. It took some work to get the armor to open enough for Hamsa to fit his thorax into the framework. Rada made a note on her data pad, “compatibility with exoskeletal individuals questionable.” After some very slow and careful fitting, the two lieutenants got the armor adjusted and powered up. As Rada and Yori watched, Hamsa and KssTali walked, trotted, jumped, and lifted things. Hamsa discovered that bending at the knees caused the armor to try and bend farther up, compressing his thorax. “Not acceptable,” Rada noted.

  After twenty minutes, the two junior officers returned to where Rada and Yori stood. “I don’ like t’ thing tryin’ t’ break me in half,” Hamsa declared. Getting him out proved as difficult as getting him into the powered armor had been. “Cap’n, ‘bout twenny percent of us aren’t gonna fit in this thing without it tryin’ t’ kill us when we need t’ crouch or kneel.”

  “And the helmet is a non-starter,” KssTali grunted. He tipped his head forward and Rada winced at the rubbing apparent around his ear holes. “You’re going to have a time, Cap’n.”

  She managed to fold her external ears forward, but it hurt. She could barely hear anything, since the audio functions projected to the sides of her skull and not her ears. Even worse, the rear pelvic shielding cut into the head of her tail. Rada worked her tail down behind one leg, as she’d done in the past, but the self-adjusting external plating failed to account for Rada’s “non-standard” appendage. “This stinks.”

  “No problems here,” Yori reported. The other three Scouts gave him dirty looks. He ignored them and began getting used to the armor. It fit very well and moved as if it had been made for him.

  “How’re you goin’ to test t’ dexterity and flexibility, Cap’n?” Hamsa asked Rada. She smiled and pointed to two testing blades clamped to the side of the armor’s carriers. “Ut oh,” the insect groan
ed, backing out of the way. He’d seen Rada and Yori settling differences before.

  Yori had also spotted the swords and picked up the biggest one, leaving Rada what looked like a very heavy rapier. It came with a leather-like glove that fit over the soldier’s hand and arm guard. Rada shrugged and pulled it on, feeling something engage as she did so. A new readout appeared on her optical display, showing the integrity of the blade. Oh-kay, she snorted. That’s a first. Wonder if this company also makes rec or gladiator armor?

  Rada and Yori moved well clear of Hamsa and KssTali before going after each other. They started using Rada’s more fluid style of rapier fighting and discovered that the armor did not permit that type of movement. It whined, dragging on their motions. “This is less than optimal,” the HalfDragon observed.

  “Agreed.” Very annoyed, Rada engaged Yori’s blade again, then backed up. “Bagh. Your move, Yori.”

  Rada and Yori circled, then began again. He charged her, coming at her with full speed and strength. She dodged, a feral grin on her face visible behind the safety shield. The two hacked at each other, all finesse tossed to the winds. This the armor permitted, at least at first. Then trouble struck.

  Rada swung down, trying to force Yori off balance. Instead they ended up in a clench. Usually he’d win, but this time Rada’s armor gave her an advantage and she pushed him back. His eyes went wide and then began shifting red. The fight turned serious. KssTali and Hamsa started getting nervous as the two captains collided, snarling, blades tangling, then disengaging. Rada lunged, aiming for Yori’s groin. He barely deflected the blow, lurching off balance. Rada helped him with a hard kick to the armor’s knee joint, which folded. Yori reached out to catch himself rather than falling and rolling.

  “Breaker!” Yori called, stopping the bout. He tried to put his other knee down. Nothing moved. “Aw shit.” Red flashed on the faceplate’s projector, warning that every joint had locked up. “Help me. I’ve got total system overload.”

  Rada stood down as KssTali and Hamsa tried to help Yori release the armor, or even restart it. As the men struggled with the locked armor, Rada began running through one of her simpler sword dances. She stopped the instant she felt the exoskeleton working against her. It reset a few seconds later and Rada tried again, starting a fast, flowing, attack sequence. Red blinking lights appeared on her visor, and as she brought the sabre up and around the joints in the armor began stiffening. She put the sword down and tried a ducking, weaving, hand-to-hand combat pattern. Again, small twisting motions overloaded the processors in the armor. She stopped, bent, and stretched to pick up the sword. “Oh fewmets,” she hissed as more yellow and red lights appeared. Rada had to stand back up, walk two steps, then half-kneel and pick up the dropped weapon.