The Distant Kingdoms Volume Twelve: Valouras Bound

By David A Petersen

VALOURAS-The mythical island state to the far north.

KASHIR – The capital city of Valouras, located in a secluded harbour well away from prying eyes.

IMPERATOR ARET ZINNAN – The rightful leader of the nation of Valouras and all of its people.

Dale Johnstone, Ricky Sorell, the Dearnian guard, Banisor and an accompanying military company have been instructed to locate the SCATT – Self Contained All Terrain Transport in order for it to be safe from enemy hands and any hostile intentions they might harbour. The entire battalion travel from the city of Terrimorter, heading in a north-easterly direction in the hope of discovering the huge vehicle’s current location.

During their travels the military unit are also ordered to discover the whereabouts of another squad dispatched by her Royal Majesty, Sinar Thellon the First. With the aid of a local Rider they do eventually stumble across the other unit, only to find out they have been taken captive by a large group of local bandits. Much to their shock, they also discover that the Rider is in league with the Anhil. Thankfully the captured soldiers are released, the Anhil killed and the rogue law enforcement officer arrested and put in chains for his return to the city of Valderhien where he will have to face the Queen’s wrath.

Thankfully, the Rider does know the SCATT’s whereabouts and is forced into guiding the battalion to its location. Soon afterwards, one of the recently released soldiers is placed inside the machine in order to full recuperate from her terrible ordeal. The commanding officer of the military company is afforded a tour of the vehicle and once the inspection is complete, Dale and Ricky Sorell trick everyone into evacuating the craft so they can make good their escape and not have it fall into military hands.

Once they have indeed escaped their escort, it becomes apparent that others are still on board the vessel, including Banisor and the young soldier. These two individuals vow to aid the others in their self-appointed quest to locate the mysterious nation of Valouras said to be to the far north of the Azzil Territories. During their expedition they stop to aid the crew of a war vessel stricken by a recent storm. They eventually place the crew and the senior officer at a fishing village where they are certain to get help in returning to their homes.

Many days later the remaining people still on board the SCATT come across a picturesque island where they take some time for some greatly needed relaxation. Unfortunately, a severe quake and resulting tsunami soon put a halt to their festivities. It now becomes apparent that the entire region is under the influence of a major volcanic disturbance which threatens to erupt at any time.

After fleeing the area, the explorers finally reach the nation of Valouras and its capital city, Kashir, a majestic cliff face metropolis. The local people attempt to kill them on the spot, although a little fast-talking by Dale soon alleviates the many concerns held by the island nation’s ultimate leader Imperator Aret Zinnan. The four visitors to the city soon discover that the local community holds an incredible secret that if divulged to the outside world could easily bring destruction to all its population.

The explorers soon come to understand the local inhabitants with their numerous unique characteristics and lifestyles. Tragically, during the crew’s stay, disaster strikes as the volcano does indeed erupt, bringing about a great disaster across the entire island. The SCATT eventually departs from Valouras with its crew vowing to do what they can to protect its people and their wondrous secret.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: May 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9781925959086

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The village was not so much a collection of grass and palm front huts with the houses and various places of business appearing more like something out of an old painting of a quaint country village which had been in place for a great time. The buildings were generally constructed out of stone, mostly found in the immediate region with light grey walls and deep red slate shingle roofs. Most of these dwellings were single storey in height, although a couple managed to attain a second level. These buildings were either places of business or belonged to the more prosperous members of the community. There was really no great planning method to the town’s outlay. The taller buildings were haphazardly dispersed amongst the lower structures, giving the impression of having been designed by someone with no great forethought to the outlay of the seaside town.

The streets criss-crossing the town were cobbled as the regional weather was often rainy meaning that under such conditions, dirt roads would easily become quagmires, impassable for either human or animal. These lined thoroughfares were occasionally dotted with street lamps, which were little more than posts with a glass-encased oil lamp on top. Though basic in design, these forms of illumination were more than enough to light up the town and provide a safe passage for anyone moving about the streets at night.

To the seaward side of the settlement, a number of lengthy timber jetties jutted out for a good length into the nearby ocean. Along these heavy duty, tar treated piers, a number of simple sail-powered vessels were presently docked. Most of these sea craft were fishing vessels, complete with the mandatory lengths of nets, along with the regular items of equipment. A couple of the boats were used to haul cargo from one destination to the next and some of the smaller craft held no useful purpose, but for the pleasure of those persons who owned them.

The people who dwelt within the town and its surrounding region were a genial sort of people. They held a variety of occupations ranging from fishermen, tradesmen, carpenters and merchants. The women of the township also followed some of these occupations, although a great many spent their days under the toil of raising a family. Crime or violence amongst these people was almost unheard of for quite some time. The town had only two special constables who worked part-time for a modest allowance paid for by the community coffers. Rarely did either of these law enforcement officials find the need to put the jail cell to use. On rare occasions, someone who had overindulged in ale was afforded the cell’s bunk bed for the night. The last time anyone had been in serious trouble was due to a domestic dispute between two neighbours. This long simmering feud had finally ended in fisticuffs in one man’s front yard, much to the mortification of the street’s other residents. Eventually, both men had been locked up in the same cell for the night. By morning they had come to a mutually beneficial agreement and over time became quite good friends.

The children of the seaside habitat were schooled by a number of local people who volunteered for the task. This was done according to the requirements of their curriculum. Someone good at mathematics would spend a couple of days teaching the children maths. Someone else would teach them literature or science (as they knew of the topic) or even more manual subjects like working with timber or metals. On a listed day these people went to the local church and listened to the priest give a sermon on how their gods, in all their glory, had provided them with such a paradise to live on during their lives. They had milk from the cows and goats, fish from the sea and crops from the nearby fields. Their children were fit and healthy and would, no doubt, grow to one day be good women and men who would raise their own offspring in the town. Everyone had to agree that life in their traditional town was not just good, but great.

And before the coming morning, each and every person in the town and surrounding area would be quite dead.

On this, the last night ever for the town and its doomed population, the only building holding any activity was, not surprisingly, the inn. There were only two such establishments to be found in the settlement. The other one, located further inland, closed early as the proprietors were elderly and simply needed their sleep. The other inn nearer the jetties was open for business until reasonably late. On some occasions, activity inside this establishment did evolve into something akin to being quite rowdy. However, on most nights, such as this one, only a couple of the regulars were inside, drinking their ales and talking amongst themselves. One man, middle- aged with thinning grey hair, politely excused himself then moved to the front door. Most of his companions; as well as the only remaining staff member, all bid him a good night. He muttered something in reply before opening the door and stepping out into the street.

A street lamp located at the nearest corner provided him with enough light to see by while walking towards his cottage located at the far end of town. He was truly grateful to have his way illuminated by the array of dull flames. One sure way to obtain a serious injury was to trip in the darkness. The man quite enjoyed life in the town, but spending a night, even a warm night such as this lying prone on the damp street was not his idea of a good time had by all.

He halted on the stone footpath.

Something was wrong.

At first, the townsman was not overly certain as to the cause of his consternation. Looking around, he honestly expected a large group of horses to come into view as the ground began to shake beneath his feet. The shaking increased in tempo, causing him to shiver in fear. He now knew full-well what was causing the disturbance.

The sounds of windows breaking filled the warm night air. A couple of dogs began to howl. In the distance a female scream was briefly heard. Deciding to make a dash for his home, the townsman began to run as the tremors increased in activity. He tripped and fell, landing spreadeagled on the hard stone street. At this time a roar filled the region to the point where he honestly thought his head would burst. Gazing straight up, he opened his mouth to scream…

And fire engulfed the world.

CHAPTER ONE

THE HAMAFORTH KINGDOMS

THE NATION OF PORRA

THE UPPER NORTHERN DISTRICTS

Oh, if there was one thing in this world that Dale Johnstone had come to despise with all of his might it was horses. Not any one or two in particular, but the entire species as a whole. He hated the way they smelt of fresh manure and old hay. He hated the way they seemed to always be staring at him through their big, black eyes. He hated the way they seemed to wait until he was about to eat before either defecating or fornicating right in front of him. But, most of all he really, truly hated having to ride the stupid things from one end of the countryside to the other.

Or so it seemed.

It was about mid-morning, the sky was badly overcast and it was raining. Of course it was raining! That was what had been happening day after day, after day… Dale was certain it had not stopped raining since they had departed the fortress city of Terrimorter seemingly weeks ago. There was one thing the Minerva team biologist had to admit to himself; as much as he had come to hate horses, he detested the non-stop rain. The constant precipitation had managed over time to drench absolutely everyone and everything within the battalion now acting as his escort. No matter how carefully one might wrap themselves up in supposedly water-proof clothing, the rain somehow soaked inside these layers of treated clothing. The only thing worse than riding around all day, every day on some stupid horse was doing so while soaked to the skin.

Each afternoon on the Dearnian guard, Banisor’s command, the military parade would halt to set up the night camp. By this stage, even the canvas tents were thoroughly waterlogged and failed to keep out the dampness. Sleeping during these stopovers had become nothing short of a torturous undertaking to every member of the company. Dale knew full-well the troops and officers did not enjoy their current assignment. They were all drenched to the bone and their uniforms were starting to show signs of wear and tear. The deep blue uniforms of the Hamaforth soldiers had, at first, been in prime condition. Now they were beginning to rot and constantly smelt dank and musty, no matter how often the military personnel tended to these items. At night while in the mess tent, all of the troops just sat at the foldable tables, grimly shoving soggy food into their mouths while hardly saying a word to one another. A smile these days was quite a rare sight.

Also, Dale was aware that the miserable weather was starting to affect Banisor who led the procession across the countryside. Even the usually stoic Dearnian was becoming a morose figure. During the day, he sat on an equally miserable-looking horse, his deep blue eyes staring straight ahead, no words of any kind leaving his mouth. At night, he ate in his tent and only interacted with any other member of the battalion if absolutely essential. In all honesty, Dale simply kept away from the fierce- looking, tall, blond man. He had the sneaking suspicion Banisor secretly blamed him for their current misery. This was sort of correct- if looked at from a certain point of view. If not for a special piece of technology accidentally deserted in the middle of nowhere, they would currently not be on their waterlogged quest.

And then there was Ricky Sorrell.

Dale did not have to deduce that the Marines private hated the process of riding around in the constant rain. Private Sorrell was definitely not the sort of person to allow his thoughts and feelings to go unnoticed. On a good day with minimal rain, he bitterly complained about being upset about the weather. In Ricky’s view, he was a Marine, battle-hardened and quite capable of fighting his way out of any shit storm imaginable. He was not and never had been a duck!

Many days ago Sorell’s observations had led to Dale and the private to holding a particularly heated discussion.

You’re a Marine! Dale had told him as they rode through a particularly severe storm. That means you’re supposed to deal with any water scenarios.

Brother Dale, Ricky had retorted. You are indeed like a brother to me, but the very next time you say something like that I’m just going to have no choice but to shoot you off that horse.

That’s nice.

As you’ve already said; I’m a Marine. We don’t do ‘nice’. He had then shrugged. Well, occasionally we do something ‘nice’. But- it usually involves someone getting shot!

These days everyone just maintained a viable distance from the private. There was no point in tempting the angered hand of fate- especially not if he was armed with a loaded M-16 semi-automatic rifle.

Nothing much had really happened to the battalion on their way from Terrimorter. On reaching a certain point, they had bid farewell to the other company under Thellic’s command and gone their separate ways. Almost the very next day the rain had started to assail them and had hardly ever paused to take breath. The only time after their departure from the larger battalion that they had ever encountered any issue was on coming across a single horse-drawn caravan being attacked by some Anhil. The bandits had not lasted very long after this discovery- much to the gratitude of the family being robbed and possibly raped and most probably murdered in cold blood. These wanton criminals were probably still decorating the tree they had been hung from back in the Azzil Territories. If there was one thing Dale, Ricky Sorrel, Banisor and every single member of the battalion could not tolerate it was Anhil gang members. Most of the bandits had perished in the first charge on their position. The survivors of the brief incursion had died soon after being hung from a tree branch. At first, Dale had been tempted to say something about the evils of arbitrarily executing people. One look at the battered, bruised and bleeding forms of the family members had stayed his tongue. The family, a father, mother and four children of varying ages had been treated by the battalion medic. They had, in turn, thanked the battalion members before moving on their way.

Since that time, the battalion had encountered other travellers. Some of these people simply nodded in their direction while moving along. Others actually requested permission to ride along with the mass of armed men and women for protection. The senior officer of the battalion; the very same captain who had once escorted Colin Bourke down from the palace tower back in Valderhien, graciously gave these individuals permission to join them. They were even invited to the officers’ mess for supper in the evening. Later on during the journey, these travellers had bid them a fond good-bye and left for their own destination.

Over the past couple of days, the military procession had not encountered another soul while travelling at a leisurely pace along the narrow road. Strangely enough, even animals and birds were scarce during this part of their mission. At the onset of the journey, hunting parties were often dispatched to search for game for the mess. These short missions had been successful, but now the troops and associated civilian comrades were living off of very basic foods. Most meals, even for the officers, consisted of dried beef or pork, aged, unhealthy-looking vegetables and biscuits hard enough to break the strongest tooth. Naturally enough, the worse the food became the greater the complaints from the rank-and-file soldiers. On one occasion in the main mess pavilion a couple of nights earlier, a fight had broken out amongst some of the junior troops. The scuffle only lasted a short time until everyone was brought to heel by the commanding officer. Much to everyone’s surprise, the captain enjoyed a healthy vocabulary which would have put a drunken sailor to shame. Most participants involved in the fight had found themselves standing sentry duty all night in the pouring rain.

No one ever did figure out just what started the brawl.

Dale was of the opinion that the incident was the direct result of everyone being fed up of trotting around in the constant rain. He had attempted to console the senior officer and explain why she should not punish the individuals responsible for the minor upheaval. The officer had promptly told him to mind his own business- unless he wished to join the disgraced troops on sentry duty.

Banisor had made her apologise the very next morning.

The captain was still not speaking to Dale since the incident- unless absolutely necessary.

***

The village the battalion encountered was like many to be found alongside the highway. Most of the single-level buildings were constructed of a red brick made from local materials. Some of the plainly dressed local people stood in the street, staring in shock at the army battalion. Others simply ran away, as all figures of authority could be somewhat discerning. A couple of small children were actually pleased to see the somewhat soggy procession enter the settlement and gave a wave as the uniformed troops rode past their position. Some of the soldiers even waved back as they moved through the village.

The battalion came to a halt on Captain Emmin Hett’s command. She simply came to a full stop in the middle of the street. The remainder of the company followed suit and some two hundred soldiers now crowded the main road. This was of great concern to the local population present to witness the unexpected invasion. The battalion remained motionless in the pouring rain while Banisor rode up to the commanding officer.

Why have we stopped, Captain? he demanded.

The female officer turned to stare at him. Do you see that, Banisor? she demanded, turning to gaze upon the rest of her company.

The Dearnian guard looked along the column of drenched, miserable soldiers. They do look like a sad bunch, do they not, he chuckled.

Those soldiers look like I feel, she remonstrated, as her mount stomped about in the mud. To be honest, I have just had enough of riding through this disgusting weather. I would kill for a good, hot meal and a nice, warm bed to sleep in tonight.

Banisor looked around to regard the meagre settlement. I honestly do not think they have the accommodations here to house our entire battalion, Captain. No matter what, some of us are going to be forced to sleep in the mud this coming night.

Surely there has to be enough rooms in this place to house most of us.

Dale Johnstone and Ricky Sorell rode up to join in the conversation.

Neither man was able to shake off the feeling that every local person present on this occasion was staring at them in shock. They merely ignored the locals; let them wonder in silence.

What’s going on? Dale inquired.

As per standard procedure, the officer ignored him.

Banisor answered: The Captain has decided we should stay here for the night.

Sounds like a great idea to me! Ricky declared. He grinned at the officer. Good for you, girl!

She smiled at him. Despite some reservations over his less than standard skin tone, the soldier with the magic weapon was an amiable person with a good humour and sharp wit- when he was not bitterly complaining about the weather.

Thank you, she responded.

We should get moving, Banisor commented. May I remind you all; this is a mission of the utmost urgency. His Royal Majesty himself ordered us to retrieve the miraculous Beyonder machine.

I think she’s right, Dale added. Seriously, I’ve just had enough of this riding-around-in-the-rain shit to last a lifetime. All I want right now is to not be soaked to the skin. A day or two here might help everyone. Or do you like the troops fighting amongst themselves, Banisor?

The Dearnian man fell silent. He was outnumbered on this occasion. All right, he proclaimed a touch despondently. We will stay here for at least a day. The troops might like the chance to rest up.

Way to go, Banisor! Ricky chuckled. His mount kicked a bit, almost as if in hearty agreement over the notion of not having to traipse through the mud day-in, day-out. Whoa, Flicka! he called to his horse. Some of us don’t do all that well on horses!

The captain wondered why the dark man had sworn at his horse, but decided not to call him on the act. Instead, she turned to view her weary, sodden troops. We will stay here for the night! Everyone dismount and find a dry place to stay! I will speak with the elders of this town!

For the first time in many days, the soldiers and junior officers had something to be happy about. They gave a collective cheer before climbing down from their horses and started leading the animals to various sectors of the village. During the process, a man in a light blue uniform and deep blue cap appeared on the slightly raised walkway. He marched straight up to the commanding officer, although not before frowning at the sight of both Dale and Sorell. The local Rider had definitely heard rumours about these dark people, but certainly not encountered any before today.

A good day to you, Captain! the Rider called. He moved directly up to the senior officer. I am Perrul Nollin, the Rider assigned to this village. Is there any way I can be of assistance?

I am Captain Emmin Hett of his Majesty’s Armed Forces direct from the city of Terrimorter.

The Rider stared at the tall woman. I honestly never thought I would see the day when someone said that to me.

These are strange times, she responded.

Tell me about it, Ricky quipped.

So, what is your business? If you do not mind me asking?

I do indeed mind, the officer remarked, though her tone held no rebuke. We are passing through on the King’s direct command. It is a secretive mission and unfortunately, I cannot repeat a single detail of it to you. Although, I would kindly ask your assistance at this time.

We’re after the SCATT, Dale interjected, climbing down from his horse. It was still bucketing rain.

The captain provided him with a furious glare.

May I inquire as to the nature of this scart?

SCATT, Dale corrected the minor mispronunciation. Self Contained All Terrain Transport. It’s basically the big machine that sank the entire Blurican navy and a lot of pirates too.

I heard about that! Perrul Nollin blurted, wide-eyed at the revelation. That was you?

Sure was. Dale paused to reflect on this terrible memory.

There was no counting the number of people who had died that day.

No! This was wrong!

There was no telling the number of people he had killed that horrible day.

Around them, the members of the battalion were quietly dispersing about the village.

A number of local people were openly greeting them. Many of these villagers would billet the troops during their stay at the village. The businesses within the settlement would do a roaring trade over the next two days.

I would remind you, Perrul Nollin, the captain insisted, her tone serious. That any details we give you of our mission are of the utmost importance and a secret to be guarded at all costs. Should any others gain access to this machine the results could be disastrous.

I understand, the Rider told her.

I have an important question, Sorell interjected, as rain continued to blast away at him. Where can we get the hell out of this goddamn rain?

The Rider grinned. All of you please follow me!

After tying up their horses, who also wished to be out of the rain, they trailed behind the Rider as he moved along the walkway. Quite soon, they entered a small office with barred windows and a single cell at the opposite end. There was a desk and fireplace at one side of the room with two bench seats positioned opposite this arrangement. The four new arrivals to the Rider’s office removed their sodden wet weather gear, hanging these items on a couple of wooden pegs driven into the wall near the front doorway.

Please, take a seat, Perrul Nollin insisted, stepping across to his desk. Opening a drawer, he removed a bottle and some reasonably clean glasses. On filling up the glasses, he handed these items across to his three guests. This is a strong liquor, so please be careful.

Sorell downed his drink in one mouthful. He handed the empty glass back to the somewhat startled law enforcement officer. Another, if you would, thanks!

The Marine’s behaviour reminded Dale of Sean Corrigin’s actions on first arriving on this world and enlisting the aid of the Riders at the very first town they had come across. On reflection, he wondered in silence on just how Sean and Connie York were faring? Outside the rain-splattered window, Dale could see a number of the troops riding past as they searched for a dry place to stay.

After filling Ricky’s glass again, the Rider went to his desk, sitting behind it. This machine you are seeking, he inquired. Do you happen to have some idea as to its location?

Why do you ask? the captain inquired.

Much to Perrul Nollin’s shock, when not encumbered by heavy duty wet weather gear, the female officer was an attractive woman of about seventy seasons of age. Her light auburn hair and light hazel eyes gave the image of someone born to a far more fashionable career than that of a mere army officer.

I may be able to help you in your quest, he politely replied before sipping his drink.

To be honest, we’re not entirely sure where it is, Dale confirmed. He frowned. How come I don’t surprise you?

The Rider stared at him. Surprise me?

How many black people have you ever seen before today?

None. But, I have certainly read the official reports about your exploits in the Kingdoms and Blurican… and the Azzil Territories! He grinned. What a life you have led!

Would you like to trade?

I am only amazed to find a Rider anywhere in Porra, the army captain admitted. I was under the impression the former Lord of Porra; whose name I will not sully my tongue by uttering, greatly discouraged Riders within his realm.

Laninval did not mind us in the more remote locations, Perrul Nollin stated. After all, we do help keep the peace. He just prevented our presence in any of the larger towns or cities in Porra. May he rot for all eternity!

She smiled. Well said.

Strangely enough, his daughter, Lady Pira actively encourages our presence these days.

I’ve met her, Ricky announced, finishing of another drink. Nice girl. He grinned at some fond memories of his time at Xerous castle. I mean a really nice girl! He looked up from his glass and found, much to his surprise, that everyone else in the room was staring straight at him. What?

Nothing, Dale muttered, likewise finishing of the alcoholic beverage in his glass. He was quite fed up of having to listen to Ricky’s constant bragging about his conquests while on this world.

The officer decided to get back to the topic at hand. She certainly did not wish to hear any further details about whatever it was that Lady Pira had been getting up to in her spare time. We have had reports that the great machine lays somewhere to the north-east of here. By all accounts, it should only be another three days’ ride away.

The Rider considered the information. That is a fairly isolated region, he told them. There are a couple of small, very small hamlets to be found in that area. The occasional Anhil hides behind some bushes and attacks the more unwary travellers. He shrugged, "But, otherwise nothing much is there. I can guide you through that region if you so wish?’

That will not be necessary, Banisor quickly answered. I have an entire battalion with me. They will be more than enough to cover the area. If the machine is indeed to be found there, we will locate it- all in Her Majesty’s name.

Dale and Ricky exchanged a quick glance.

They needed to talk about this later on and in private.

Banisor had noticed this exchange of serious expressions. He wondered in silence just what was going on between the two black men? He had known Ricky Sorell for quite some time since the flying machine crew had first landed near the castle while it was under Lord Bourke’s dominion. Still, he did not entirely trust these two Beyonders. They appeared to be following their own agenda.

I do have one question, the commanding officer enquired of the local Rider. Did another squad of troops happen to pass through here some time ago?

Not that I am aware of, the Rider stated. And believe me; if another army passed through this area, I would know about it. May I ask why?

Her Majesty sent another squad to intercept the machine on first hearing about it. The squad has apparently vanished into thin air. No one has heard of their present whereabouts. She paused, staring down at her half-finished drink. To be quite honest, I worry about them. The war may be over, but these are still dangerous times. I hope and pray they are still in good health.

I am sure they are, the Rider commented, finishing his drink.

They thanked the Rider for his hospitality then left the office. Some of the members of the battalion were openly wandering along the street. They stared into the local shops, entered the bars and other such establishments and basically relaxed during their unexpected free time.

***

The group comprising of Banisor, the commanding officer and the two Beyonders located one of the better boarding houses in the large village. The building was a double-storey, stone and mortar structure complete with an upper balcony and a small stable out back for any guests’ horses. After paying the middle-aged woman who operated the establishment, they went to their respective rooms to freshen up.

Dinner would be in a short time and all four of these people were quite fed-up with- travelling. Riding across the countryside on a horse was a physically punishing activity. The food was edible at best, though a touch on the basic side. The sleeping arrangements left a great deal to be desired. They were at the constant mercy of the weather. And last, but by no means least, there was always the distinct possibility of being shot at by some simpleton Anhil with a crossbow.

At least for the next couple of days they had the chance to enjoy life.

All of them bathed in the communal bathroom. Captain Emmin Hett waited for the men to finish before washing herself. There was no great modesty on her part. More than a fair share of men had seen her without clothes on during her adult life. She certainly had nothing to be ashamed of; the result of a vigorously physical lifestyle. However, the officer did wish some peace during the time she soaked in a copper tub full of hot, soapy water.

All wearing their best clothes, the four travellers rendezvoused in the small dining room attached to the ground floor of the boarding house. There were only six tables available in the area and all of them were currently crowded with members of the battalion. One table did hold a couple of local men, but these people kept to themselves. Most of the troops gathered at the different tables were officers of varying ranks. These men and women, all in their dress uniforms, hastily rose to their feet on first seeing the commanding officer enter the room.

Banisor, Dale Johnstone and Ricky Sorell likewise stood up in a display of gentlemanly behaviour. They waited for the senior officer to seat herself before likewise taking their own chairs.

You look very nice in your uniform, Captain, Dale remarked, picking up a menu from the table.

She smiled at him. Thank you, Dale Johnstone. She then studied the grey tunic and pants he wore. That is a nice outfit; where did you acquire it?

During our time touring this lovely country of yours. He frowned. Or was it over in Dearnia? Some place around here. He looked at the writing on the menu and his frown increased in severity. Damn! I’m going to have to learn the local written word! It’s just embarrassing not to be able to read something as simple as a menu!

Sorell also looked at a menu. I’ll just have the special.

Special what? This comment came from Dale.

Special… Whatever the hell’s going around here. I don’t mind at all. So long as it’s hot, tasty and filling.

If you so please, the captain insisted. I will order for us.

Sounds good to me, Dale responded.

And me, Sorell added, enthusiastically.

Banisor nodded. Certainly.

A girl in a floral dress and white apron approached and took the food orders from the senior officer. She nervously bowed before fleeing the room. A couple of the junior officers at other tables noticed her nervous behaviour and chuckled amongst themselves. They did fully agree; the sight of any senior officer in full-dress uniform was a somewhat nerve-wracking vision to behold on any given occasion.

Food and drink poured into the room at a remarkable rate and soon most of the diners were devour their meals. The food the officer had ordered for her dining companions turned out to be a stewed meat and vegetables in a thick sauce that held a hint of plum. As he always did when offered any half-way decent meals, Sorell acted as though he were in an eating contest.

This is great! he blurted, chewing on his food. He swallowed before speaking again; I can’t begin to tell you folks just how many times I’ve been out-bush, eating Christ-only-knows-what from out of a tin can. He shook his head. I swear some of that canned crap gave me the runs for two months straight!

Ricky, Dale politely chided him, on seeing the expressions of their dinning guests. Wrong place and wrong time to be talking about that sort of thing.

The private turned to view his companions. Oh, sorry. I know; let’s change the subject.

Great idea, Dale retorted, placing more food into his mouth.

You know what I’ve been saying is wrong with this world? Sorell asked those persons around him.

Banisor and the officer shook their heads.

Too goddamn many white people around here!

Some of the people at other tables turned to stare at him.

Great going, Ricky, Dale grumbled, shaking his head in dismay.

Sorell now had the bit between his teeth. No- Seriously, Brother Dale. What we need to do is find all those other brothers and sisters who are supposed to be out there some place and bring them all back!

And just how are we supposed to do that? the biologist enquired. He really just wanted to finish his meal in peace, not start an interplanetary ‘Black Power’ movement. I mean we don’t even know where they are. Or if they’re even real.

Oh, they have to be real, Sorell countered. There’s just no way this entire planet could only have three brothers on it.

May I remind you that we’re not exactly a native species around here.

This is a very strange conversation, Emmin Hett admitted, having long since ceased eating to listen in on the discussion.

You get used to it, Banisor offered, still devouring his meal.

Once they had finally finished eating, they decided to take a tour of the village at night. Despite being sort of tired, they all felt the need to stretch their feet and find something interesting to do.

***

The town’s main street was provided with a reasonable illumination from an array of oil lamps set along both sides. It was only early evening, so a number of local people still tending their stores. Some members of the local community wandered about the street, along with a couple of people from the recently arrived battalion. The soldiers, to a person, halted in their tracks and bowed at Captain Emmin Hett. She bowed back and continued trailing around with her three companions. Any number of the locals likewise halted mid-stride. Only on these occasions, it was to openly stare at both Dale Johnstone and Ricky Sorell. Despite knowing of the presence of these highly unorthodox-looking men, the reality was still staggering.

I never get used to that, Dale admitted. Used to happen all the time when I first got here.

I just ignore them, Sorell remarked. That’s what I do. He noticed a couple of men staring at him from across the wide, dirt street. Hey! Just what the hell are you fools looking at! Perhaps I should go over there and beat the white off your asses!

The group of local men scattered.

"I see what