While the storm, by all accounts, wouldn't be all that bad by Earth standards, there were still concerns. For one, we didn't have any modern housing to shield us from it, so we were going to need to finish up the yurts and make sure they could stand up to it. We wouldn't be able to build enough for everyone, either, yet. Second to that, hailstones. Now, the wind speed wasn't high, at least not by the standards of Earth, but that still leaves us with rocks falling from the sky. My designs had originally just used the tarps for the roof, to make it easier on us, but that wouldn't be enough to protect from hail, so thatching roofs just got added to the list.
First, we needed folks in the right groups, and Val seemed ready on that count, "Okay, top of the order: Trayg, I'm pulling you from hunting. You're great, but you're physically the strongest one here, and we need you over with the Rothani on getting lumber. Duckie, Shin, and Screns, I need you guys to communicate with everyone where their original camps were, then go scavenge anything you can. Hoda, head down to the river and reset the nets across the full river for right now. We'll need as much as we can before the storm sets in. Marila, Fiann, and Nogrex we'll need you all getting firewood, as much as you can, and get it somewhere dry, as well at thatch for the roofs. For the rest of us, we'll be getting the building going. Everyone, break after we eat."
After breakfast, everyone moved off to their assigned tasks. The Asu went around to everyone and ended up taking Prodigal with them and the Screns, to find the camps quicker as they got descriptions. Hoda replaced the nets quickly and came back up, joining the building team as we laid into it directly. By now, the first shelter was mostly built. The structure was two rings of vertical logs, one just outside the other, with a section arranged to allow for a fireplace and chimney. Between those logs, we dropped branches and such, creating a level of insulation, if not great, it would at least be something. Then it was a matter of laying out and tying down the tarps on top of the structure, which came down to Val and Hoda climbing up and working. Marila and Fiann made semi-regular trips back, Fiann dragging container shell loads of firewood and brush.
I, meanwhile, began lashing doors together. Ensuring they were properly measured and could pivot was more fiddly than difficult. There was a sweet spot to it so that the door would stay mostly still, but not be difficult to open, and be insulated as well. Then, there was the matter of latching. On the inside, I made a strap and hook, to be able to 'lock' the door from the inside, while on the outside, an actual latch was used. I had to redo it a couple of times to get it done properly, but that's just how things work in the wilderness. Try a thing that should work, find out it doesn't, swear, try again, swear, and repeat the process until it's all functional.
It was a few hours later, as I was laying down my completed doors, that my wristband beeped, and by reaction, so did Val's. Hitting the green button, up popped Annabelle, and the look on her face was dire, "Afternoon, Miss Annabelle. I reckon now ain't the be-"
"Keith! Listen! They showed us footage of the storm, some of it the initial view of the storm forming, but they've been giving us a live feed of it, and their estimates are off, way off," she said, all trace of the anchorwoman missing from her talk, "Their readings are from when the storm first started forming, and they haven't been tracking it much since. It got bigger, somewhere in the neighborhood of Cat-1. Right now, though, it's back-building along from the mountains to the Northeast of your position."
Shit, "And how is it they ain't got this info, Annabelle?"
Annabelle shrugged, "Our best guess is that they're telling the truth. The storm they're pointing out to you is the worst storm their species has ever recorded. As in, at all. I'd be very surprised if they bothered advancing their meteorology past the necessity point."
Fuck. It made sense. Meteorology on Earth had only truly advanced because it was necessary because storms on Earth could be so incredibly severe, including such fun as tropical storms, tornados, hurricanes, and blizzards, and each with their own categorizations of how much the storm would be capable of destroying. Fundamentally, if the Kathrall had never had to be on the receiving end of worse than a tropical storm, then they wouldn't be likely to devote significant research to that point, "Alright, Miss Annabelle, so figure it's back-buildin'. If it's a 1 now, that'll put her, what... 2, possibly 3 when she drops on us?"
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Annabelle nodded soberly, as my wrist beeped again, and pressing the button now brought up Ravazh'Tik alongside Annabelle, "Survivor Keith, we here with the Kathrall Dominion, may the Emperor reign eternal, noticed your conversation with your liaison. What do these... numbers mean?"
"Gimme a sec, Rav. Gotta get folks squared away real quick," I said, turning, "VAL! Storm's gonna be a 2 or a 3! We need windbreaks along the ridgeline!"
Val swore and started directing Hoda, and I turned back to my screens, "Alright, now, y'all, where were we? Right! Miss Annabelle, could I get your help on showin' him images and whatnot? Figure this'll go quicker if we got somethin' to show 'im.
"Rav, the Cat stands for a scale we use for storms on Earth, or Category. It's a measure o' size, general wind force, how much the sucker 'eats', or destroys, as far as storms go. Now, to put it to ya in a way y'all get, the storm y'told us about wouldn't make the scale. Just a tropical storm, and off we trot. Sure, it's not great if you're off in the woods like, but it ain't nothin' to write home about if y'catch m'meaning. Cat-1 is where it starts t'pick up. There're six categories, an' we use 'em to rate things like hurricanes, and other severe storms."
Ravazh'Tik showed interest in this, leaning forward a little, "You keep mentioning these... tor-nay-dohs. What are they?"
Aw, god damn it, "Well, damn. Miss Annabelle, while I talk about this, could you have yer boys in the booth bring up a string of videos of tornados, from F0 to F5? I'll need t'be showin' 'im or he won't get it. Basically, Rav, the 'naders are wind funnels that're sometimes created due t'storm fronts on Earth. Particular regions, such as my home state o'Tennessee, are sorta in the perfect spot for 'em, and we get 'em pretty much every year 'round the same time since that's when the conditions for it come together."
Annabelle brought up a video of a small tornado moving along. Ravazh'Tik eyes bugged out at the sight, "And this... this is a real weather event on Earth?!"
I moved Annabelle's screen so that I could use it the same way a weatherman would, while keeping my focus on Ravazh'Tik, "Sure as shootin', buddy. Now this right here's an F1 tornado. Yer lookin' at sustained windspeeds of seventy-five to a hundred an' ten miles an hour-"
"A hundred and ten miles per hour?!" Ravazh'Tik wasn't just being the host at this point, he seemed legitimately terrified at the concept.
"Yessir, sustained, not gusts. Now, again this sucker's an F1. After a hundred and twelve, we pick us up on F2 tornados, and they'll go up t'bout hundred and fifty-seven miles per hour. Miss Annabelle's team's been kind enough to provide an example o'one for us now," And stepped a little away from the screen, to let Ravazh'Tik and the viewers get a closer look on their own.
Ravazh'Tik looked ill as he began speaking again, obviously having been signaled by someone off-camera that he had dead air, "I... I don't believe we need to see the other videos on the subject, Survivor Keith. How did humans learn to avoid these sorts of natural disasters on Earth?"
I cocked my head, "Avoid?"
"Yes, avoid. So, obviously, your people would need to be more nomadic, moving away from the afflicted areas during the season of occurrence each year," Ravazh'Tik was feeling much easier now.
"Uh, we don't. People live there, and I mean, hell, goin' out on the porch to watch the storm roll in's nearly a national pastime."
He was agape, "Y-you- WHY WOULD YOU STAY THERE?!"
"Look, Mister Rav, y'don't get it. Let's say we got our asses outta there like y'want, right? If'n we go east to the coast, it's hurricanes instead o' tornados, an' we might still get the tornados. If we head out west, we got big mountain storms, and the desert to the south. West o' that, and we got the West Coast wildfires every summer. Goin' north, we got blizzards and whatnot on up there. And south, well, that's just gettin' us both the tornados, and the hurricanes, so I mean, six o' one, half-dozen o' the other. Other places even got worse stuff, like Hawai'i has volcanoes eruptin' on it. Went t'see it one time, it was pretty neat."
I closed Annabelle's window, and front faced to Ravazh'Tik, "Look, what you're not gettin' here's pretty simple: Our world's been tryin' t'kill us for a quarter o' a million years that we've existed as a species, and it has failed, spectacularly at that. So yeah, we're pretty well-versed in these sorts o' things, Mister Rav. Don't expect we'll have us much trouble makin' it through this upcomin' storm."
I closed the final screen and turned to see Marila and Fiann, returned from their most recent wood-gathering run, and Marila was staring at me, "You don't expect any trouble?"