The Distant Kingdoms Volume Four: Under Wounded Skies

PROLOGUE

The girl was in her late teens as her life span would be measured in standard Earth years. Her eyes a light green, her poorly managed hair a dull blonde, seemingly darker than usual due to both being unwashed and lice infested. The girl’s undernourished physical condition likewise added to her misbegotten appearance. Her clothing was little more than a motley collection of threadbare, foul rags, held together by a few hardy stiches. She wandered along a narrow, untarred road, the sandals on her scabbed feet periodically plodding through numerous mud puddles created by the seemingly ceaseless drizzle falling from an endless grey blanket of low clouds.

And all the gods in their infinite wisdom sent forth foul climates to punish those persons of the Domain of Blurican for their most wicked practices and heathen beliefs.

Brushing aside her wet, clinging hair, the girl looked skyward and knew for certain she would be spending another miserable night in the open. There was rarely any letup to the non-stop rain and the entire country was plunging headlong into yet another wretched season.

Darting to the side of the road, she remained motionless amongst the bushes and stared in abject terror in the direction from which she had first come. The distant sound that reached her was from the motion of numerous horses pounding along the very same thoroughfare. After an extended period of time had passed, the girl relaxed since no person on horse or foot had emerged into her line of vision. Obviously, the girl’s weakened condition had created demons in her terrified mind. Continuing her journey to freedom, the destitute girl trudged onwards towards an unknown destination where hopefully a lasting freedom could be found.

To her immediate left, just beyond a line of grim, tortured-looking trees ran a narrow, murky brown river, its contents in slow, perpetual motion on a voyage which would eventually lead to the Inress Sea. On her other side stood a massive forest of tall, equally unappealing trees complete with an almost impenetrable layer of undergrowth making travel through this foliage near impossible. To attempt to seek shelter in the forest was tantamount to suicide. Not that the thought of a reasonably quick death was all that repugnant to the girl. Anything was preferable to the life she had been leading for the better part of her existence.

The next sounds to reach her ears were certainly no figment of a tired mind. Men on horses were approaching along the same road, their animals’ shod hooves pounding on the perpetually wet, hard ground. Now wide-eyed, the horrified girl remained still, staring off towards the direction of the approaching band of horsemen. When a group of no less than seven horsemen rode into plain view, the girl turned, using the last reserves of her strength to bolt headlong up the road. The men on horseback charged forward in willing pursuit.

Realising any flight along this thoroughfare was futile, the girl scrambled towards the river with its dirty, discoloured water. Two of the pursuing horsemen unexpectedly appeared before her, effectively cutting off any possible means of escape. The other mounts hastily formed a rough circle around the snivelling, fear-racked figure. On some unspoken order, each of the horsed men produced a long, thick leather thong and began lashing at their prey who instantly responded with a serious of enraged screams. The leather lashes soon left any number of vicious welts on the girl’s exposed skin.

In one final attempt to get free of her tormentors, she lunged through the two steads positioned between herself and the body of cold water. This unexpected burst of speed caught the men very much off-guard. She was finally within about four long paces from the brown expanse of water when a noose dropped over her head, tightening about her thin neck.

The horseman holding the other end of the rope looked once to his companions then charged back along the road from where they had first appeared. They all had important business to conduct and could not spend too much time bothering about this scrawny girl. There were certainly much better ways of occupying one’s time than hunting down runaway slaves.

CHAPTER ONE

THE NATION OF HALISH

The cigar had incinerated almost to the tip as Sean Corrigin sat on the dorsal observation platform, a fishing rod in one hand, his shiny metallic drink flask in the other. His heavily tinted sunglasses were perched precariously on the end of his short nose, though this did not particularly matter as the man had been fast asleep for the better part of half an hour. He wore a simple white cotton shirt and grey trousers while a rudimentary hat kept the overhead sun well away from his pale skin. As per usual in this part of the world of Perencore, the air temperature had been surprisingly high and humid, allowing for a wide variety of biting insects to fill the air. These nuisances did not disturb the slumbering man due to liberal dashes of insect repellent he had confiscated from the infirmary.

The massive machine he perched on and had lived in still remained bogged in the soft sand on the narrow stretch of beach due to running at full-reverse speed from some odd reptilian creature intent on making a meal of it- and everyone inside. Thankfully, after some digging around the rear quarters of the Self Contained All Terrain Transport, the machine was now resting at a reasonable angle so those persons residing inside her could live their day to day lives in fair comfort instead of something akin to an amusement park ride. This excavation by hand had, naturally, been a slow, tortuous affair completed over many days.

Also, just to add to their woes, someone was moving about the vehicle, their presence concealed by the thick growth of mangrove vegetation. He had actually never seen the person or persons he felt were lurking in the vicinity; catching very brief glimpses here and there of someone or possibly something forcing its way through the masses of short, thorny bushes that proliferated throughout the region. Considering some of the truly nasty surprises Sean and his two companions had encountered on their travels, he was certainly not about to go traipsing through the swamp after whatever was out there.

A short, sharp tug on the line caused Sean to rise swiftly to his feet, all traces of sleep instantly swept from his mind. The rod in his left hand danced a merry jig as it came to life. Dropping the almost empty flask, he started reeling in the fish he assumed was either hungry or just had become fed up of life in general and wished to end up as a befitting meal for some intelligent person.

Someone appeared at the other end of the upper observation deck and silently watched his progress as he began carefully hauling in his prize catch metre by agonising metre. Apparently, a ten kilogram breaking strain was not enough to secure the catch and the line simply snapped. While the fishing rod wobbled uselessly in both of Sean’s hands, his eyes went wild and he hauled a Browning 9 mm automatic pistol from out of his belt. He aimed said weapon at the expanse of deep green seawater with the full intention of executing it before a voice brought him back to his senses.

Sean! What the hell are you doing?

He turned around, features blushing in embarrassment to see Dale Johnstone standing behind him.

The tall, dark scientist was wearing shorts and light blue shirt through which one could just make out the layers of fresh bandages holding onto his injured ribs- a result of their impact with the coastline. He honestly looked a great deal better this morning than the past couple of days.

Just a touch of fishing, Dale! Sean answered, placing the handgun back under his belt.

Do you always carry a gun with you when you go fishing?

Sure! Sean stated, flashing a broad grin. Though, to be honest this is the first time in my life I’ve ever been fishing. I just got fed up with a constant diet of frozen or dried food and decided something fresh from the ocean might be in order.

Well, Sean, here’s a tip from someone who has done his fair share of fishing, Dale informed him. It’s not like conducting a bank job. You don’t need to go armed for bear.

Considering some of the beasties in the water, I figured a high-calibre automatic might just come in handy.

You could just be right. The tall scientist glanced about the deck floor but only spied a modest assortment of fishing tackle and bait. How long have you been at it?

I’d say about three or four hours, Sean announced.

You mean you haven’t caught anything in a couple of hours? What sort of fisherman are you?

To answer the first question last; a beginner. And yes, I actually did catch something, but I threw it right back where it came from.

The other man was surprised. Why did you do that, Sean?

Because I couldn’t for the life of me recognise the thing.

Oh, fair enough, I suppose.

I have a rule in life: Never eat anything that frightens me. Even I draw the line at cooking and eating some creature that scares the hell out of me! Changing the subject to something a lot more pleasant; where’s Connie?

Last time I saw her she was in the mess having breakfast. Why?

Why not? Beats the hell out of talking about the weather. How are you feeling this fine morning, Dale?

Better than last night, let me tell you. I think the ribs are finally starting to heal up.

Great! Cause when they’re finally better you can give me a hand digging this contraption out of the mud!

It might be a while before I’m up to hard labour, Dale remarked. How’s it going with the excavation?

A lot faster if there were more people helping. I’d say give me a few more days and we’ll have another shot at dragging her out of the sand. Oh, by the way someone or something’s been watching us for a while.

Dale leant over the short railing, his attention focused on the nearby shoreline. Just one person?

Possibly, the Irishman answered. I haven’t been able to get a real good look at whoever’s over there. I get a quick glimpse of them once in a while, but nothing certain. Why? Do you want me to go and fetch them?

No, Dale instructed. Not yet anyway. I don’t want to risk one of us on what could just be a curious local. And if you start digging out the SCATT make sure one of us is here with you. Just in case this peeping tom gets curious. He wiped the perspiration from the nape of his neck. Is it always so hot out here?

Wait ‘til noon, Sean snorted. You could cook an egg on the roof of this thing! And yet everywhere we were before was always so bloody cold!

I think this place is in temperate waters which would keep the climate pretty warm all year round, Dale surmised, his eyes flashing towards the surrounding marshlands.

If you say so, Dale. Personally, I’ll be grateful when we when we get well away from this bug- infested, godforsaken hellhole!

Maybe you’d be more comfortable inside with the air conditioning.

Unfortunately, I’m not much of an indoors sort of person. All that machine- cooled air gets up my sinuses and eventually gives me a shocking headache.

Suit yourself, Dale commented. If you need me for anything I’ll be inside the SCATT- with the air conditioning and no bugs.

Your problem, Dale, Sean announced, is that you’re too used to the good life. You’ve gone soft.

Yeah, if you say so, the scientist added, departing from the observation deck.

In next to no time, Sean was leaning back on the bench seat, a baited hook once more immersed in the temperate salt water and yet another cigar smoking merrily away in his mouth. Closing both eyes, Sean Corrigin leaned back and dropped into his standard half-doze while the nylon line continued bobbing about the slowly swirling waters of the ocean.

***

Connie York stood poised just above a cooker on the galley stove, casually observing a couple of slices of bacon and two eggs frying noisily in a large, but strangely lightweight pan. Unlike her fellow companions, the former manager of the doomed Minerva Project had absolutely no compunctions about eating food from the SCATT’s massive freezer. Thankfully, the cold storage facility on the transport was quite capable of containing foodstuffs of all types over great lengths of time. Deciding her breakfast was ready she placed these items onto a dinner plate then stepped from the galley into the spacious mess hall with its bench tables and adjoining seats. Picking up a knife and fork on her way, she selected a seat near a porthole and sat down for this first meal of the hopefully uneventful day.

Something was missing.

Salt, she murmured, leaving her seat.

Connie stepped back into the mess and came to an abrupt halt, her green eyes focusing on a shocking sight.

Dale! she exclaimed in horror. That was my breakfast!

Dale currently sat in her former seat, making short work of the breakfast. He turned to face his colleague, the last remnants of a slice of bacon quickly vanishing into his mouth. After a few more chews, he cast a grin in her direction. You’re a good cook, Connie!

I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it! she snarled. You know there’s nothing stopping you from cooking something yourself! You’re not an invalid!

Dale pointed to his bandaged ribs with his right hand. I beg to differ, he countered.

What am I supposed to do now? she demanded.

There’s plenty more in the freezer and the pantry.

Why don’t you cook your own meals, Dale?

Nah! I’m just going through a lazy time in my life.

You…

An alarm siren sounded, its deep pitched ring cutting off her sentence; a fortunate event so far as Dale was concerned. A glass panel positioned just beside the mess hall entrance began flashing in the traditional warning red in simultaneous harmony with the siren. This occurrence caused both occupants of the elongated room to look about.

Now what? Connie demanded.

Dale polished off his stolen meal before rising to his feet. I guess we’d better get going and see just what’s upset the poor thing.

She waited until the other team member had put his dining utensils into the sink and rinsed them off. Once this chore had been completed they fled the mess hall. Both prayed the dead creature’s mother had not put in an appearance, searching for her offspring whom they had blown into little pieces. They could do without that sort of trouble.

***

After Connie and Dale had rushed into the cramped bridge of the immobile SCATT, they were surprised to discover Sean seated at the control chair of the main consol. He appeared to be easily dealing with the controls, working feverishly to cut off the emergency siren and beacons. An instant later all warning alarms, both audible and visual died as though the power to their control system had been deactivated. The short Irishman turned to flash a trademark grin at his friends.

There now! he blurted, merrily. Wasn’t that easy!

Wasn’t what easy, Sean? Dale demanded. We still don’t know what just happened?

Sean pointed imperiously towards one of the activated monitor screens positioned near their heads. We’ve got company for breakfast! So break out the good silverware!

On one of the small screens, a number of people, all oddly enough wearing yellow tunics with white capes, could be seen creeping towards the massive vehicle. Surprisingly, each and every one of these intruders into the area was a woman and all heavily armed.

Well tell them to go away! Connie demanded, her eyes following the silent commotion on the overhead screen. Dale’s already eaten my breakfast and I’m not cooking for anyone else!

Very funny, the other scientist commented. He turned his attention to his shorter travelling companion. Just to answer my curiosity, Sean; just how did you know how to these controls. I didn’t show you and I’m sure neither did Connie.

I decided to hop into that virtual reality gizmo late one night when I couldn’t sleep and teach myself. It’s a marvellous contraption! Better than reading through some stuffy, old instruction manual!

I wonder what they want? Connie asked.

The clear image on the colour screen currently displayed images of no less than seven women beside the immobile craft. In a display of utmost caution they crept closer to the gigantic object stuck on the beach.

Why don’t I simply ask them their business? Sean inquired, before plying the controls once more. His voice bellowed across the marsh land: AND JUST WHAT WOULD YOU FINE-LOOKING LADIES BE AFTER- CREEPING ABOUT IN THAT FILTHY SWAMP?

The seven women turned and in one motion ran for their very lives through the expanse of twisted mangrove plants and other such wetlands bushes. Some of them even dropped their spears and swords during their flight. In less than ten seconds not a single intruder was still visible on the screen.

Whoops! Sean hollered. I think I may have given the poor dears a slight scare.

A slight scare! Dale chuckled. Most of them will still be running this time tomorrow.

I wouldn’t worry about it, the other man told him. Personally, I don’t think they were particularly bright girls to begin with. I mean, what sort of person runs around a hot, smelly swamp dressed all in yellow?

They’re back! Connie announced.

What did I tell you! the Irishman exclaimed, cheerfully. Not very clever at all. If it were me out there I wouldn’t come back here for love nor money!

Connie, you speak to them, Dale insisted. See if we can get some information from them. Like where the hell are we?

The yellow-clad figures began emerging yet again from out of the undergrowth. All eyes were intently focused on the unfamiliar object positioned at a slight angle from the nearby beach. The ones who had relinquished their weapons about the muddy ground regathered these items before continuing towards their destination.

Can you hear me? Connie’s voice rang out, though not with the same cheeky dexterity as the previous caller. Of course you can! What a stupid thing to say! She paused. Stay there! I’ll be out in a minute!

Where do you think you’re going? Dale demanded, turning away from the screen.

I’ll be okay, she assured him.

Before or after they perforate you with those spears? Sean inquired. Also, I don’t think they really know what a minute is because they’re leaving already.

True enough. On the screen they could clearly see a number of the women fleeing at an impressive pace.

They breed ‘em fast around here, he noted.

Fortunately, some of the intruders had found the courage to stand their ground. Most of these women still appeared to be exceedingly edgy and often turned to gaze off in the direction that most of their colleagues had run.

Are you certain you want to go out there? Dale inquired. They don’t really look all that friendly to me.

Wait here! she instructed, moving toward the entrance. ‘I’ll go and speak to them."

And if they get hostile?

Then I’d appreciate it if someone could come out and get me.

We’ll toss a coin for the privilege, Sean muttered, watching as she finally deserted the bridge.

***

The woman was of average height with dark blonde hair and blue eyes with an expression that indicated her life had not been an easy existence. She held a short, thin-bladed sword in one slightly trembling hand and stepped about this mammoth vision as if it were from some astonishing nightmare. Behind her stood another, slightly younger girl with light reddish hair who appeared to be having great difficulty dealing with the strange sight. This girl had not run from the second bellowing voice more out of sheer terror than any need to prove her bravery.

Stay alert! the blonde woman hissed.

The second girl merely nodded her head.

Much to their shock, part of the odd, white skin sprung wide open just before a ramp lowered to the sandy ground. A slender woman with shoulder length dark-brunette hair stepped from out of this new opening, smiling politely at them. Their first instinct had been to kill this strangely dressed person, but her easy demeanour brought them up short. Obviously, this slightly older woman held no malice towards them. Besides, she was completely unarmed, not even possessing a knife.

We came from the sea, Connie explained, patiently. In this thing. It’s like a ship, except it can travel on land as well.

Why do you speak in that manner, the blonde soldier demanded.

To be honest, I’m not absolutely sure. But, you can understand every word I’m saying, so I think that’s the main thing. You can put the sword down now- please.

The girl slowly lowered her weapon, then nodded to her sole remaining companion whom acted in kind.

Thanks, she responded. My name’s Connie York.

I am Pallinar, the blonde warrior announced. And this is Barret Dasser. I would introduce you to the others from my unit, but they appear to be too far away to hear us.

Barret Dasser laughed: We will make their lives miserable for days for the way they all fled in terror!

How come you have one name, but she has two? Connie inquired.

The two girls exchanged confused glances.

Connie now correctly figured a great deal of explanation would be forthcoming over this apparently minor slip of the tongue. She made a hasty mental note to be a touch more selective about her questions in the future.

Our names are due to Barret Dasser being from San while I am from Dearnia, Pallinar explained. Where are you from to hold such an unusual name- Connie Yark?

York, the scientist corrected her. It’s sort of a real long story, but let’s just say we’re not from around these parts.

There are more of you in this strange thing? the Dearnian inquired, moving her fingers across the artificial skin of the motionless SCATT.

Yes. There’s Sean and Dale, Connie answered. I’m sure they’d be pleased to meet you both. You might even want to round up your pals and bring them back here.

If we can find them! Barret Dasser snickered. I have never seen anyone in the Intret Legion run so fast in all my life!

While you get them, I’ll bring the others out and we can compare notes.

Notes?

Yes. We’re not too certain on where we are right now.

We will assist you to the best of our ability, Connie York, Pallinar accepted this invitation.

Just ‘Connie’, please. Where we come from we usually just use the first name.

As you wish- Connie. We shall return shortly with the rest of our squad. The blonde grinned. If they are still in the country.

While the two recently arrived women in their odd garb left the area, Connie went back inside the transport which automatically closed the entrance. She was openly excited about this hopefully productive meeting between herself and the two locals. A touch of good fortune on her side, she might actually discover their whereabouts. At last they had encountered people in this region whom were not hostile towards them.

CHAPTER TWO

If ever there was a time he was unsure about his actions, Sean Corrigin knew this was it. Depositing an automatic pistol onto the carpeted deck of the SCATT, he continued trailing behind both Connie York and Dale Johnstone on their way out of the mighty vehicle. So far, just about everyone and everything they had come into contact with on this world had displayed nothing but blatant hostility and even homicidal intent in their immediate direction. Now, Connie wanted them to simply walk into the open, unarmed and surrounded by these lunatic women.

Are you sure this is such a good idea, Connie? he inquired.

Believe me, she explained, with great confidence. They’re no threat to us. Why did you leave that gun there? she demanded, staring down at the weapon just past the airlock floor.

It’ll be just fine where it is, he assured her.

Just don’t forget about it. I don’t want to be tripping over the stupid thing later on.

If you say so, Connie, dear.

She glared at him, but allowed the comment to pass without further mention. He only called her that dreaded name in an infantile effort to bait her into an argument. The best way to deal with his so-called sense of humour was to just plain ignore him.

They approached the starboard exit port and halted for a moment beside the touch-sensitive control pad. Connie noted that her fellow Project team member appeared to be taking this matter in his stride. Sean was her main concern at this stage. He openly believed this assembly with the uniformed women was an exercise in sheer stupidity.

Are you ready? she inquired, opening the hatch.

Yeah, sure, Dale answered. Ready as I’ll ever be.

I still think this is taking an unnecessary chance, the Irishman grumbled.

I’ve spoken to them, Sean. They’re okay.

We thought that about those bastards back at the fishing village! And look what happened!

Just stay here and wait for me to call you, she instructed, stepping out through the open doorway.

Even in the air-conditioned airlock they could still feel a stream of thick, hot air rushing inside the transport. The smell was heavily laced with the dreaded stench of rotting vegetation and other things unknown.

Connie’s head reappeared. Oh, Dale.

Oh, what? he muttered.

It might take a bit longer to explain about you. Sorry.

Just do it.

Connie vanished out into the mild sunlight, but left the hatch wide open. Her two companions impatiently waited for their introductions to these local women. They only hoped that this hastily organised meeting would not end in the customary bout of violence.

***

Outside the SCATT, a number of women of varying physical characteristics and ages had gathered, cautiously watching Connie as she alighted from the very impressive machine. The one who was called Pallinar stepped forward to greet the strangely spoken, but apparently quite civil dark- haired woman. Those members of her squad standing nervously on the narrow beach were without crossbows or other such weapons.

Connie, Pallinar called. These women are from my squad. We are the local Intret legion.

Intret legion?

The other women gathered in close proximity all frowned to varying degrees at this ignorance over the name.

We guard the region against possible incursions by either pirates or the foul forces of Blurican... Pallinar’s voice faltered. My apologies for so openly calling that vile country’s name.

Where are we exactly? Connie inquired, deciding to press on with matters more important than local prejudices.

This is the north-eastern coastline of the country of Halish, the blonde woman announced.

Not Dearnia?

No.

Damn! We were supposed to be heading back towards some city called Fellan Port.

A stifled laughter rang out amongst the gathered women. They glanced to one another as if a moderately amused.

I am afraid you have gone in the wrong direction, Pallinar stated. Fellan Port is a good twelve days hard ride from here.

It’s not my fault! Connie declared, a touch defensively. We hit a really bad storm a couple of days ago and got lost!

Very lost.

One of the women, having overcome her feelings of mirth stepped across to place her left hand on the smooth, though dirt smeared armoured hide of the trapped vehicle. She hastily removed the limb as if stung. What is this thing?

That, Connie answered, flashing a smile, is the SCATT. A sort of ship that can move across the sea and land. Would you like to have a look inside?

Certainly! Barret Dasser exclaimed.

Strangely enough, Pallinar spoke up at this point. I was under the impression I was the senior officer of this squad. But, no matter- if Barret Dasser declares that we should go inside this monstrosity then who am I to object.

First I’ll introduce you to my friends, the scientist insisted. They’re not much to look at, so please try not to laugh. You might hurt their feelings.

The leader of the unit chuckled a bit. So far this had been an extraordinary day full of marvellous discoveries. She trusted the remainder of the day would prove just as interesting.

Sean! Connie called. Could you come out here, please!

As you wish! the short Irishman called, making his grand appearance at the now open hatch. His sudden appearance at the doorway caused quite a commotion and none of it good.

A number of the women drew their knives and rushed forward while another grabbed Connie from behind, dragging her some metres from the machine. This in turn caused Sean to reach into his left boot and produce a pistol so tiny his slim fingers almost engulfed the weapon. He aimed this gun directly at the two nearest women hovering about him in a threatening manner.

Sean! Connie called, still Palinar’s captive. Put it down! Do it now!

Let her go! Sean bellowed, an instant before firing a single shot into the soft sand. I won’t warn you again!

Dale Johnstone finally put in an appearance, wondering how a simple meeting between themselves and some of the local people could go so horrendously wrong. His unannounced appearance also created even further turmoil. Some of the yellow uniformed women screamed in shock, though they all continued circling around the two men.

What the hell’s going on here? he demanded, glaring across at one of the intruders, a tall girl with red hair and quite striking blue eyes. He was quite surprised to find himself taking note of her eyes in such a time of crisis.

Let me go! Connie insisted, struggling against her captor.

Not until we get some answers from you! Pallinar exclaimed. What are you doing with these men? And where did the dark-skinned one come from?

If you let me go I’ll explain everything, her captive promised.

The squad leader finally released her grip on the other woman.

All right. I will take your word on it! But do not do anything rash. The results could be…

In an instant Sean had charged down the access ramp, marched across to her and placed the pistol directly between the blonde woman’s eyes. The other women continued circling this group, unable to quite fathom what was happening on this isolated stretch of beach. Most of the group maintained a constant vigilance on the short, angry man and their officer.

If you ever touch her again, he hissed. I’ll kill you and every last one of your friends before you can break into a good sweat!

Sean! Connie called. That’s enough!

One of the more adventuresome women in the group raised her knife and rushed the short man. He in turn simply raised the weapon in her direction, squeezed off the only other round available and shot away part of her uniform from the shoulder. She dropped the knife in response to this bewildering mode of attack and remained motionless.

That’s much better, he commented.

Pallinar, Connie spoke up. Why don’t we talk about this inside and let everyone calm down?