The Sword and the Plough Read online

  Her Majesty listened quietly as Lars spoke, her brows knitted together in concentration. Now and again, she asked him questions and encouraged him to speak in further detail of what he had seen and heard.

  Lars did not tell her of Old Seth and his son, or of Jeremiah and the Stellar Gypsy. He explained only that a royalist underground had engineered the escape from Megran and arranged their subsequent passage to Earth. If the queen noticed this lack of particulars in his story, she did not question it, or press him to elaborate further.

  Elizabeth V, Queen of All the Planets, sat silent for some minutes after Lars had finished speaking. Her gaze remained focused on the young Trionian, but her mind appeared to be elsewhere. Lars glanced across at Caroline, uncertain what next to say or do.

  “So-o-o!” the queen murmured at last. “The pieces come together at last – Operation Valkyrie!”

  “Operation Valkyrie, Your Majesty?” Lars queried.

  The Queen of All the Planets smiled. “We had but the words, Lars. You have put the flesh on them. Operation Valkyrie appears to be the name Ferdinand has given his treason.

  “Oh, he has been clever, very clever. We knew something of his ambition, of course, and our spies had long since warned us of his growing strength. However, at no time did we imagine the full extent of his treachery. Our patrols still report nothing amiss. Communications with the other planets appear normal. Trade and business continue as usual…” The queen shook her head sadly. “Yes, he has been clever, very clever.”

  The troubled brow crumpled and the queen’s hazel eyes filled, and silver tears rolled in shiny trails down her cheeks.

  “My heart weeps for our brave soldiers who fought and died so courageously in our name; and it weeps, too, for those valiant men and women, silent now, who were our eyes and ears. They would not easily have given up their secrets. Oh yes, Ferdinand has been very clever…”

  The queen’s voice trailed away, and in the silence, Lars became aware of an antique clock with ornate black hands in a corner of the alcove; heard its ominous ticking away of the minutes. Nine-forty-five: for a second or two, he could not decide whether that meant night or day. Then he remembered. The Defiant’s shuttle had taxied up to the Royal Space Military disembarkation port at dawn, a dawn of soft greys and cold whispering rain. It was the cold that he remembered the most.

  After a moment, the queen brushed away the tears from her eyes.

  Then she was standing, her head held high, her hands spread wide. Elizabeth the person had gone; Elizabeth V, Queen of All the Planets was speaking, her voice vibrant and thrilling.

  “We uphold and endorse the declaration of our governors and the other members of our Commonwealth Council imprisoned on Megran.”

  She paused and Lars saw her look darken. “Now we add our word. Ferdinand, Governor of Megran, in whom we had placed our trust, is now our enemy – and, as such, outside our law – outside our love. Reluctant though we are, we have no choice. We must draw our sword from its scabbard where it has rested so long.”

  All at once, the queen raised her hands skyward as if calling upon the power of the heavens, and Lars saw the hazel eyes light up as if a bright flame burned therein.

  “Hear us now,” she declared, her voice ringing, “and be our witness. We, Elizabeth V, Queen of All the Planets, do most solemnly vow and declare to avenge all those who sacrificed their lives for us, and to record their names in glory for all to know. And for those who suffered pain or privation – recompense – each according to his loss, for they put their trust in us and have just claim.

  “From this day, all that Ferdinand owns, all that he is, is forfeit to the Crown, and his only future in our realm is death… And our sentence is the hangman’s rope, the death of a common criminal or pirate, for he is no more than they.”

  The queen stood for a moment, her fierce stare fixed firmly on some distant place while the air about seemed alive, electric with the reverberations of her voice. Lars found himself holding his breath.

  When she spoke again, the queen’s eyes had lost their fire. Elizabeth the warrior had gone.

  “We are grateful for your timely warning, Lars – Caroline. Even as we speak, the message goes out to our fleet to arm and prepare for war.

  “From what you have said, it is probable that Ferdinand does not yet know his treachery is revealed. Is that correct?” She looked hopefully at Lars, then at her cousin.

  Lars nodded. “I think so, Your Majesty,” he said.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Caroline confirmed. “Major Waterman believed Ferdinand would begin his attack immediately if once he suspected his plans were compromised.”

  The queen nodded. “Yes, that would seem likely. Ferdinand would still retain most of his advantage if he struck quickly enough.” She glanced round, holding out her hands palms uppermost, as if testing for rain, and smiled. “And since we are still intact, it would seem he is as yet unaware the two of you have escaped his net.” She clapped her hands together. “Good!”

  The queen now sat down again, and arranged her gold gown about her. Her eyes were alive with hope and anticipation.

  “And now, Lars,” she said, her red lips wide in the warmest of smiles, “we understand you have some strategy that may help us thwart the traitor’s treachery.”

  “It’s just an idea really, Your Majesty,” Lars muttered, suddenly unsure of his plan in her presence. “It might not be of any use…”

  “Let us be the judge of that, Lars,” the queen replied, her gaze impassioned. “Let us be the judge.”

  Lars took a deep breath. “Well, Your Majesty, the main problem as I understand it, is that Ferdinand has collected up all the weapons on each of the conquered planets. As a result, the local inhabitants have nothing to fight with to start a rebellion. Therefore, as long as this situation remains Ferdinand can hold the planets with a minimum of manpower and utilise their resources against you.

  “Then there’s the hostage situation as well. The locals can’t be expected to mount a rescue with their bare hands… But… with a weapon, everything changes…”

  Lars broke off suddenly, concerned his thoughts might appear muddled.

  “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I don’t know if this is making much sense.”

  The queen fluttered a hand toward him. “Please carry on, Lars. You mentioned a weapon.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty, there is a weapon on my farm and every other black rock farm on Trion, Lumai and Theti too, and maybe other planets as well, I guess.”

  “Go on, we are listening,” the queen said, her gaze intent. “A weapon you say? What weapon?”

  Lars hesitated. “A plough, Your Majesty.”

  “A plough?” A disappointed frown appeared on the queen’s brow.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. We break up the lava surface with a plough that fires a laser beam at the black rock.”

  “Ah-h-h,” the queen breathed. “And?”

  “Well, it has the power of a weapon, Your Majesty…”

  The queen’s hand fluttered impatiently again. “Yes, Lars, go on.”

  “I realise it will take a host of military planners. I mean, it will have to be a simultaneous counter attack on the four conquered planets – maybe even on Megran too.” The words now came in a rush. “And transforming the plough won’t be easy. The share will have to be set up on a tripod mount to fire from the cockpit, sights and trigger mechanisms fabricated – armour… And it will all have to be done quickly and in secret. The people will have to be organised. Oh, and I know my idea is all very woolly… and dangerous… and…I…” Lars stopped. The words had run out.

  The queen stared at him, her face expressionless. Lars felt his heart sink. He looked away. He studied the royal coat of arms above the throne at the far end of the chamber, the golden lion rampart, the six tetragons of colour…

  It seemed an age. Finally, the queen spoke. “I wonder?”

  Lars looked up. The warrior light shone again in her eyes.

 
She stared at Lars, but he was aware her thoughts were focused on some distant place.

  “It might just work,” the queen said quietly. “Perhaps Ferdinand, for all his cunning, has overlooked something after all.”

  The dark brows dipped in a puzzled frown. “There was once an ancient book that many put great store in.” She was nodding to herself as she spoke. “It spoke of ploughs being turned into swords. Swords and ploughs…” She closed her eyes briefly and then shook her head. “No, I can’t remember.”

  The queen paused and looked steadily at one, then the other.

  “We do not want war,” she began in a low voice. “Is it not the antithesis of all that humankind claims to admire and strives to achieve? You will see no joy in us when our armada sets out across the heavens to battle Ferdinand.

  “We would it were that history had provided an alternative example for us to follow. But Ferdinand, like some wild and brutish beast, has stalked us to our door and will slay us if we do not turn and fight. But worse, far worse, he will undo all the good that has been built up over centuries; the human civilisation, that after ten thousand years in the agonies of growing, is about to bloom…”

  The queen’s voice, which had risen again in its feeling, now dropped away almost to a whisper.

  “No, we cannot allow him to destroy all that,” she continued. “We have no choice. We must fight fire with fire. It is our duty to our people, past, present and future; our duty to all that is good.”

  The queen looked over at the young man, anguish welling in her eyes.

  “You have done well, Lars, well indeed,” she said gently. “And you too, my brave cousin…” She reached out and took Caroline’s hands in hers. “Brave, like your mother – resolute…” She smiled, but the pain still showed in the hazel eyes. “Thank you! Thank you, both. You have risked much for our sake.”

  The queen stood suddenly, a pillar of gold silk. Lars and Caroline rose swiftly to their feet and stood awaiting the queen’s next words. Her Majesty made as if to dismiss them.

  “Your Majesty?” Lars felt his voice waver on the edge of being tremulous. In his boldness, he had begun to sweat.

  The queen turned, her brows raised in surprise that he had spoken.

  “Yes Lars?”

  “I would like to return to Trion – to Vegar, Your Majesty.”

  The hazel eyes looked deeply into his.

  “You have already suffered beyond your duty, Lars,” the queen replied gently. “There is no need for you to return until our Commonwealth is safe once more.”

  “My sister, Helen, is still a prisoner in Vegar, Your Majesty,” Lars reminded the queen. “I must do what I can to see her safe.”

  The queen gave a nod. “Of course, we understand. Very well, we are sure the military will be glad of your local knowledge.”

  “And I’ll be going back with him, Your Majesty,” Caroline’s voice added firmly. “There’s no question about it,” she continued before the queen or Lars could speak. “I may have been born and educated here on Earth, but Trion is my home, and I need to go back and finish what I started… What you and I started,” she amended, glancing across at Lars. “And we have a few old scores to settle there as well.”

  “Caroline,” Lars protested. “It’s far too dangerous…”

  “Don’t try and stop me, Lars.” Caroline replied bluntly. She gave a curt laugh. “Do you think I’d be in any less danger here, on Earth?” She shook her head. “There are no safe places now. Anywhere and everywhere will be the battlefield. Ferdinand threatens us in every corner of the Commonwealth, and if I have to fight, I want to fight on my home ground.

  “Besides,” she added brightly. “Someone has to keep an eye on you.”

  “But anything could happen,” Lars persisted.

  “Yes Lars, that’s right,” Caroline agreed with a sad smile.

  “Anything could happen. And if it does, I want to be at home on Trion.”

  Lars turned to the queen, the look of entreaty plain on his face.

  The queen raised her hands in a motion of helplessness.

  “No one has ever been able to change her mind, Lars. Much as we might wish to, we cannot order her to stay, just as we cannot order you…”

  The queen stood looking at them for a spell, her eyes full of feeling. Then she bowed her head and extended her hands out wide, as if in a blessing.

  “Both of you will be ever present in our thoughts in the days to come,” she said softly.

  Chapter 27

  Operation “Catch a Tiger”

  “Wait up, Cheryl.”

  Captain Johan De Vries stepped out of the dark doorway into the black night of pouring rain and fell into step beside the young woman. He reached out and turned up the collar of her red great coat against the rain, and then repeated the action for his own.

  The rain beat down upon their comb morion helmets and spilled in thin silver curtains from the glistening curved brims. Their tall boots shattered the black sheen of the swift forming pools and puddles.

  “Nice night to be out walking,” the captain remarked ironically.

  Lieutenant Cheryl York twisted her head up to glance briefly at the bleak sky. The heavy rain spattered her face so that she blinked and had to wipe the wet from her eyes.

  “Yes,” she muttered. “And the forecast is for more of the same tomorrow. But I guess we’ve got to expect it at this time of year. It is winter after all.”

  Her companion nodded. “So, when were you going to tell me?” he asked abruptly.

  “Tell you what?” the lieutenant responded. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  “Why you’re out in the pouring rain for a start, head down, going somewhere in a hurry.”

  “Oh nothing really, just some administrative thing over at the admiralty I have to attend to. It won’t take me long.” She gave him a tentative smile. “I’ll catch you for a coffee later, if you’d like.”

  The young captain frowned. “You wouldn’t be trying to put me off, would you?” he asked.

  Cheryl York stopped in her stride and turned to look at him, her eyes wide in apparent innocence.

  “No, of course not,” she replied. “Don’t be silly. It’s nothing really, it’s just…”

  “Operation Catch a Tiger,” the young man drawled quietly.

  The young woman’s gaze narrowed sharply. “Captain De Vries, you knew all the time,” she said indignantly. “You’ve been leading me on.”

  He grinned. “Oh, my poor darling,” he murmured. “Don’t you realise the grapevine extends to more than just your sweet ears? I volunteered to go about five minutes after you.”

  The young woman’s look softened. “You don’t have to go, Johnny,” she said softly.

  “Yes I do,” he replied promptly. “With Megran in revolt and Ferdinand about to declare war, our queen has asked for specialist volunteers to launch a counter attack against the Megran rebels in the colony planets.” He grinned. “And you know how hard it is for me to resist the call to volunteer.”

  The young woman scowled. “Johnny, be serious.” She reached out and gripped his arm. “I have to go because it’s clear now that my father’s mixed up in this thing… in Ferdinand’s rebellion.” She shrugged. “It’s just something I have to do.”

  “Family honour, eh?”

  The lieutenant nodded. “If you like,” she replied. “But it’s my problem. You don’t have to go.”

  “Do you think I could let you go off like that without me?” The young man asked. “Besides, we’re all going to be in it sooner or later, from what they say.”

  “But Johnny, this way is dangerous. We’ll be on our own, going in under cover – spies. And if we’re caught…”

  Despite the rain, the young man reached out and coaxed her tenderly into the warm circle of his arms. “Yes, it is dangerous,” he murmured. He tried to kiss her, but their helmet brims clashed. He tucked his silver comb morion under his arm and kissed her lightly on the l
ips. The rain teemed down on his head. “And that’s why I’m coming,” he said. “I’m not letting you face that threat alone.” He kissed her again, this time more passionately.

  “Now to business!” He returned the silver helmet to his head and wiped the wet from his face. “We have to go meet the Lady Caroline and some fellow she’s brought with her from Trion, some out-worlder, Lars somebody or other.” He gave a flat laugh. “Apparently, the farm boy’s designed a weapon out of a plough for us to fight with. Amazingly, with a few modifications, the damn thing works.” He shrugged. “After all our years of military training, we go off to fight alongside an out-worlder with a plough.”

  “Out-worlder? I wonder if you should call him that?”

  Captain De Vries grinned. “Well whatever, I’m sure he’s probably a decent enough fellow. Anyway, we’re off to help him start a war on Trion.”

  He took her arm. “Come on, let’s hurry and get out of this rain before we get soaked.”

  * * *

  On the same night, but 200 kilometres above the clouds that brought the rain, a small space-going vessel slipped her mooring from beneath Her Majesty’s cruiser Defiant. The little ship gave a brief burst on her micro-thrusters, then drifted a hundred metres or so astern of the royal fleet before firing her photon engines. A few minutes later, she had disappeared into the dark void of space.

  If her pilot thought he had made it away undetected, he was mistaken. Her Majesty, herself, had been informed the very moment the Stellar Gypsy released her anchor magnets. And, as the little ship vanished into the vastness, the queen was observed to look up and whisper ‘thank you’ to the dark winter sky.

  * * *

  “Steady as she goes, helmsman – steady.”

  Commander John Riddick sat forward in his black leather bridge chair and studied the proximity navigator screen as the Megran battleship eased into position behind a mountain-sized chunk of slowly rotating, dark reddish rock. Above them, below them, in every direction as far as they eye could see, stretched a desert of sparsely spaced burgundy coloured rocks of all sizes – asteroids, the Jupiter Trojans, perhaps the debris of some time forgotten planet that had known the universe before Earth’s first dawn.