The Sword and the Plough Read online

  “Stop engines!”

  Commander Riddick sat back in his chair with a sigh. “Well done, helmsman. Now let’s see if the rest of our fleet can do as well.”

  He studied the battleship’s reverse screen as the six Megran cruisers and seven corvettes came into position astern of the battleship, chips of battle grey on a shore of red. Small scout vessels flittered about between the bigger ships like impudent sparrows.

  “Good! Right Number One, get those sensor deflectors up. Let’s go to ground.”

  “Yes sir, deflectors up now.”

  First Officer Lipinski grinned. “Cat and mouse, eh sir? I’ve been looking forward to this. Now we’ll show them what we can do.”

  Commander Riddick gave a curt nod. “Yes, well let’s hope you’re right. He switched open the ship-to-ship channels. “Attention all captains and crews, this is Commander Riddick.” He paused to allow time for the various ships complements to assemble. “I know that by now it’s no mystery to any of you as to why we’re here, or what our business is. Therefore, it only requires me to fill in the details of what our part in Operation Valkyrie will be.”

  Again, he paused, so that the impact of what he had to say would be the greater.

  He gazed out of the transparent dome of the battleship’s bridge at the sprinkling of asteroids that surrounded them on every horizon. Perhaps some great civilisation had once lived here when the rocks had been a planet, only to die in a cataclysmic destruction outside their control.

  When he thought about it, did what he had to say really matter? Did any of it matter?

  But he had his duty. That he held fast. It was everything he was.

  “We are now in Earth’s solar system, Earth’s territory,” he began solemnly, “astride her chief space lanes and wormholes.”

  He took a breath and kept his gaze stern.

  “We are the front line – the front line of what will be the greatest armada in the history of human civilisation.” He paused and counted slowly to five in his head. “It is our task to bring havoc to the enemy, disrupt their defences, and pave the way for the waves of our comrades who will follow.” He paused again and counted once more in his head. “Be proud for you are the vanguard of this great undertaking. Be proud, because you are Megran’s best…” The commander relaxed his gaze to take on an encouraging look. “We await Prince Ferdinand’s order for Operation Valkyrie to begin.”

  Chapter 28

  Back on Trion • Hakim • HMS ‘Daring’

  Lars shaded his eyes against the early morning light of Trion’s twin suns and gazed out at the endless plain of black lava rock. Here and there, an odd hillock stood above the plain, an ancient wave of lava that had suddenly cooled as it flowed. He was home again.

  He wiped the sweat from his eyes. Already the temperature was rising rapidly and he was sweating profusely.

  He turned and looked at the young woman who had come up from the hollow behind him where the Defiant’s lifeboat had landed.

  “Well, this is it,” he said. “What I call home.”

  The young woman looked about her, her calm blue eyes surveying the barren, black landscape. Like Lars, she was dressed in the white field clothes of a Trionian farmer, but at her neck, a glimpse of red betrayed the queen’s red beneath. She cradled a Bess light-bolt rifle in her arms. A Meredith pistol hung from her hip.

  “Not much to see, is there?” Lieutenant York muttered matter of factly. “And nothing much happening, either.”

  “I should hope not,” the young man replied to the latter comment. “I asked Captain Willoughby to drop us well out from Vegar to be on the safe side.” He smiled. “You’ll find it’s a lot different closer to town where the rock ploughs have been working, lots of grass, lots of trees and crops, farms and people, plenty of everything really.”

  “It’s so empty, so desolate,” the lieutenant continued as though she had not heard. “Just black rock as far as the eye can see.”

  She put up a hand to shade her eyes against the twin suns on the horizon. “And so hot,” she added. She pulled a disgruntled face. “I hope it doesn’t get much hotter.”

  “Hey, you two!” It was Captain De Vries’s voice. “This is no time for gossip. Come and give us hand with this.”

  He and Caroline were attempting to pull black camouflage netting over the Defiant’s small spherical shaped lifeboat. The hollow it sat in was a large lava bubble that had swelled and burst, collapsing in a fiery spray of red hot lava and gas, several million years before.

  Four pairs of hands soon completed the task.

  “Okay, that should do it,” the captain said. “It should look like the rest of the terrain round here to the casual eye.”

  “Do you think we got down unnoticed?” Caroline asked.

  The captain shrugged. “If Willoughby’s plan worked,” he responded. “With a bit of luck, the Defiant’s low pass around the planet should have kept those Megran fraudsters so busy trying to look good they won’t have had time to notice us dropping in.”

  Lieutenant York gave a flat humourless laugh. “Well, I sure hope it worked or that’s the end of us and a lot more besides.” She looked across at Lars. “Come on then lead the way, we’ve got a long way to go and I don’t want to be wandering round in the dark trying to find whatshisname’s place.

  “You mean, Hakim!”

  The lieutenant gave a nod. “Right, that’s the one.”

  Lars checked his wrist navigation aid and pointed. “This way,” he said.

  * * *

  The captain crawled up beside Lars. Ahead of them, Hakim’s home stood black and silent in the darkness. They had arrived at the cottage just after sunset. It had taken them the whole day to hike the distance. The first of Trion’s three moons was peeking over the horizon. They wanted to be safely inside before all three lit up the night sky.

  “No sign of life,” the captain whispered. ‘I don’t like it. Does he usually go to bed this early?”

  Lars shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  The captain turned to the others. They were crouched down a few metres behind him.

  “Spread out,” he said in a whisper, signing the same with his hand. “Have your weapons ready, but don’t fire unless I give the signal.”

  He put a hand on Lars’s shoulder. “Lars, you’ll have to go in alone. He knows you. But be careful.”

  Lars used his elbows to worm his way forward. He took cover behind a water trough near the house. The night was cooling fast, but he was still sweating. He eased the Meredith in its holster.

  “Hakim!” The harsh sound of his own voice startled him, like a spotlight suddenly switched on. He waited, uneasy, but no answer came.

  “Hakim, it’s Lars – Lars Kelmutt.” he tried again a little louder.

  Still nothing, his hand tightened round the grooved butt of the light-bolt pistol…

  “Lars?” The voice from the house was low – cautious. “Is that you, Lars?”

  “Yes Hakim, it’s me. Can I come in?”

  The cottage remained silent for a moment.

  “How do I know it’s you?” the voice asked.

  “Of course it’s me. Can’t you tell? Let me in and you’ll see.”

  “No!” The tone was sharp with suspicion. “Stay where you are or I’ll open fire.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m staying, I’m staying.”

  The house went mute again. Lars could imagine the handsome face of his friend frowning in the darkness. Hakim would know by now his neighbour had been taken prisoner and no doubt feared a trap.

  “What colour dress did your sister wear at her last birthday party?” Hakim’s voice asked abruptly out of the darkness.

  “But she never wears dresses,” Lars began. “She only wears trousers, even on her birthday... Oh!” He started to laugh. “But of course, now I remember, you wore the dress just to tease her. By the planets, those pink frills… The funniest thing I ever saw.”

  Hakim was laug
hing now too. A deep throated laugh that echoed in the cool night air.

  “Okay, my friend, now I know it’s you. Come on in.”

  * * *

  “So, that’s what’s been going on,” Hakim muttered at length, when the two queen’s officers had finished speaking.

  The five of them were seated round the table in the main room of the cottage. The small solar lamp at its centre cast their five shadows large upon the walls.

  “They’ve been here, of course, about a dozen of them,” Hakim was saying. “Megran troopers, I mean. Took my rifle. Gave me a piece of paper for it. Told me I could have it back after it was inspected, whatever that means.” He glanced sideways at Lars. “Yeah, I couldn’t have fired on you even if I’d wanted.” He scratched his curly black head. “They nosed round for a bit. Helped themselves to some of my chickens, stole all my eggs. Even took a bottle of wine I’d been saving for a special occasion…”

  “Then they frightened the life out of my stock with the way they took off on those horses – motors screaming, dust and dirt flying, not bothering to use the gate or the road, just going straight over the fences and across my fields, flattening everything. One didn’t even bother to jump the fence, just fired his cannon and blew a hole to ride through. The bugger even had the nerve to turn and wave.”

  Hakim shook his head. “I didn’t try to stop them. I figured they were just waiting for an excuse to do me proper.”

  Lars gave a nod. “I know,” he murmured.

  Hakim sat up and slapped his palms on the table. “Right! What can I do to help?”

  “We need an army…” Caroline began.

  “An army of farmers equipped with rock ploughs, to rescue the hostages,” the lieutenant finished for her.

  “Rock ploughs?” Hakim’s face took on a puzzled look.

  Lars grinned. “Yeah, rock ploughs,” he said, “They’re our latest weapon.”

  “And there’s not much time to do it,” the captain added. He checked the universal device on his wrist to calculate the time left. He switched the timepiece mode to relativity. They had already lost two Earth days in travel.

  “From tomorrow, when the suns rise,” he went on, “we’ll have just two Trion days left. We have to ensure our attack coincides with the resistance forces on Lumai and the other planets. Sixty Earth hours, that’s all the time we’ve got.”

  Hakim rubbed his stubbly jaw and grimaced. “It’s not enough time,” he muttered. “Not enough time at all.”

  The lieutenant gave a stiff smile. “It has to be,” she said. “And we have but the one shot at it. Twelve hours after our battle commences, two battalions of the queen’s forces will arrive to assist. But the success or failure of the venture depends on us. If we fail to rescue the hostages, if we fail to hold the Megran troopers in check, then the battle for Trion will be lost.” She looked steadily at the others. “And perhaps the war against Ferdinand as well…”

  * * *

  Commander Usha Sinha sank her head in the pillow and closed her eyes. It had been a long day. She had left her first officer in charge and retired to her cabin. An hour’s rest, she had told him, just an hour.

  She had put the Daring and the other five ships of her fleet – the cruisers Indefatigable, Invincible, and Lionheart, and the corvettes, Valiant and Courageous through their paces; attack formations, rapid fire, and the other battle drills and disciplines. As a new commander, she had wanted to show her captains and crews she meant business – that only their best was even half-way good enough. She had worn her crews out. However, it had been just as tiring on her, as well.

  The intercom blinked and her first officer’s voice shattered her quiet.

  “Commander? Admiral Arlos calling, ma’am. Shall I patch him through to you?”

  “Yes, thank you, Number One, I’ll take it here.”

  “Usha?” The admiral’s white haired head materialised on the screen.

  “Yes Admiral?” She sat up at her desk and switched her side of the intercom on.

  “Ah, there you are.” The admiral gave a brief smile. “And how is the Daring and its little flotilla doing? Are they getting used to their new commander?”

  Yes Admiral, thank you, we’re doing fine.”

  “Good, good, I’m happy to hear that.” He paused and studied her face for a moment. “You look tired, Usha.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, Admiral.” She gave a flat smile. “Just the usual space tiredness. We’ve been going through our various disciplines, building up speed and accuracy with our gunnery.”

  The admiral nodded. “Good. Your captains will take a little time to get used to their new commander. Michael O’Connor, the man you replaced, was a good officer. It takes time for men to transfer their loyalties.”

  “And he was a man,” Usha murmured before she realised she had spoken.

  “Yes,” the admiral concurred. “He was a man – a man who made it no further than commander. You, Usha, will make admiral before your time is done. You are the best I have ever seen…

  “Commander Sinha!” he said abruptly, the tone of his voice suddenly official. “There is an important reason for my call.”

  He hesitated, and she saw his brow crease, thinking carefully how to phrase his next words. Then he straightened his back and adjusted the collar and front of his red jacket.

  “Commander, I’m afraid there is no easy way to tell you this.”

  The pleasantries were over. His next words would be official.

  He cleared his throat. “Commander, I have to tell you our queen is now at war with Megran. We are at war with Megran. An attack could come at any time.” Usha’s heart froze. She held her breath.

  “You and your six ships are our front line,” the admiral continued. “All we have between them and us. We need time, time to prepare. Give us the time we need, Usha. Give us the time.”

  He paused, his eyes searching hers. Usha stared back, her mind in a turmoil; her children… her husband…

  When the admiral did speak again, his voice had softened to an avuncular tone.

  “Good luck, m’dear. I know you will do your duty.” He gave a thin smile. “And may we see you again soon, safe on Mother Earth.”

  The screen went blank. Usha stared at her own reflection in the space where the admiral’s face had been. Her shoulders drooped and the strength ebbed out of her. Tears pricked her eyes, but she did not give into them.

  For one long moment, Usha allowed the weakness. Then she sat up straight and pushed back her shoulders. She tugged the line of her jacket straight. Then she took a deep breath and gathered her composure. She was Commander Sinha and worlds depended on her.

  She turned on the camera for the Daring’s address system, and hit the switch for the ‘all ships’ channel. Her head and shoulders appeared on the monitor above her.

  She steeled her gaze. “All ships… all ships… this is Commander Sinha of the Daring. I have just received an important announcement from the admiralty.” She was surprised how calm her own voice sounded.

  “I have to tell you…” She hesitated, but could think of no easy way to say it. “I have to tell you… from this moment we are at war with Megran…”

  She took another breath. Her hands clenched; her knuckles whitened.

  “Our six ships are all that stand between the enemy fleet and our mother, Earth…”

  She paused and allowed the bridge clock to tick off a full five seconds. Then she added.

  “The queen expects you to do your duty…”

  Chapter 29

  Ploughs into swords • HMS ‘Daring’ • The Battleship

  “Right, let’s see what we’ve got.” Captain Johan De Vries said.

  It was an hour past dawn. They were seated again round Hakim’s table going over their plans. Hakim had been gone two hours already. It was his job to rally the farmers. He carried detailed plans from Earth’s admiralty on how to convert the humble plough into a weapon of war. It was going to be a busy day.

/>   “So, this is the front gate here!” Captain De Vries placed a finger on the plan Caroline had sketched of Fort Vegar.

  The captain turned the paper round to face him. Lars and Lieutenant York twisted their heads to see. The plan showed the ramparts, the gates, and the tall tower at the fort’s centre – the keep. The keep stood almost twice as high as the main ramparts, its walls twice as thick, the defenders last hope if the outer ramparts were breached. And in the dungeons beneath it, the Trionian hostages.

  “Now, we’ve got to cross open ground here,” the captain’s index finger traced a path across the page “until we can reach the keep and the entrance down to the cells – here.”

  His finger tapped the paper thoughtfully for a second. “Hmm,” he muttered, frowning hard. “You’re sure there’s no other way in?” he asked. “I mean, the front gate? It’s an awful cheek.”

  Caroline shook her head. “Not unless you want to come in by the postern gate?”

  “That’s the little gate in the back wall you were telling us about, the one that leads into a gully.”

  Caroline nodded. “Well, more a depression really, but it will offer a bit of cover.”

  The captain shook his head. “Hmm, no – I don’t want to draw their attention to the postern gate too soon. That’s our way out.” His frown deepened. “But is there nothing else, a door maybe, a window even?”

  Caroline smiled indulgently. “Johnny, I know the fort like the back of my own hand. Remember, my father is – was,” she corrected, “the governor here. I’m sorry, but there are only two ways in and out, the front gate and the postern gate.”