The Sword and the Plough (6 page)

“
Yep,” his companion acknowledged with a
nod. He looked closer. “But that ain’t yella, mate,” he added
scornfully. “That’s what they call
chartreuse
. It’s one of
this year’s fashion colours. I ought to know. I’ve been dragged
around enough of Vegar’s dress shops to recognise chartreuse when I
see it.”

He gave a sudden start and glanced round
apprehensively. “Anyway, you’d better shut up about it. You know
who she is, don’t you? Lady Caroline! If anyone hears you talkin’
about her like that, you’ll be seeing the inside of them cells
under the fort faster than the tongue of a Lumaian lizard
drinking.”

“
Of course I know who she is,” the first
soldier snorted. “No harm meant, just a little harmless
day-dreaming, is all. I mean, she’s downright gorgeous, and I was –
well – just lookin’. Anyone’d think I was aimin’ to steal the crown
jewels, or somethin’. Like they can’t control what we’re thinkin’,
can they? I mean…”

His mate stiffened suddenly and stood to
attention. “Huh! Watch out!” he whispered hoarsely. “Sergeant’s
comin’.”

The cold-eyed stare of the sergeant came to a
halt in front of the two sentries. His well-buffed comb morion
shone like Trion’s suns and his highly polished buttons flashed.
His portly frame tested the stitches of his black uniform
trousers.

He was, in fact, what every good sergeant
should look like.

“Hmm! I’ve been watching you two.” The NCO
said quietly. There were too many fine guests nearby for his parade
ground bellow. “Right pair of old gossips, aren’t you?” He leaned
forward confidentially. “Come on then. You can tell me. What was
all the chatter?”

“Oh, weren’t nothin’ really, Sarge,” the
first soldier replied easily. “Just saying how pleased we were to
be volunteered for sentry duty at the governor’s garden party.

The sergeant nodded. “I should think so too,”
he said. “Chance to see a decent bit of skirt for a change, like
the Lady Caroline over there. Now don’t she fill that dress out
something lovely? Nice colour that yella. Suits her, don’t it?”

The two young men grinned in answer.

He glared at them. “Well, don’t it?”

The soldiers nodded vigorously, their wide
grins still apparent.

The sergeant’s gaze narrowed. “Now, what are
you two smirking at?” he queried. “Did I say something funny?”

“No Sarge. Just agreein’ with you,” the
soldiers chorused.

The sergeant gave a curt nod. “Good! And
keep that smile on your faces, because you’re both on a charge
–
gossipin’ on duty
.” His ruddy round cheeks rose in a grin. “Have a nice day,
lads.”

“You and your big mouth,” the second soldier
growled as soon as the sergeant was out of earshot.

“Ain’t my fault,” the other protested. “The
sergeant liked looking at her, too.”

“Yeah? Well he can afford to, we can’t. Now
we’ll be confined to barracks all weekend. When are you gonna to
learn to keep your big mouth shut?”

“Aw, give it a rest,” the first soldier
began. “What’s done is…” His voice trailed away. “Hey!” he
exclaimed suddenly.

“What now?” the second soldier groaned.

“
Over there – looks like smoke,” the other
said, bobbing his head in the direction he was looking. “By the
bones… Vegar’s
on
fire
!”

“Freeze the stars…” his companion began. But
if he said more, it was drowned out by a sudden roar of air and the
brutal crump and thump of explosions.

A spilt second later, the ground erupted and
leapt up to meet them…

Planet TRION
– Vegar Township

Greenwich date: January 30,
2175
– 16:10
hours

“
Well Helen, looks like we needn’t have
worried at all,” Lars’s tone sounded more reassuring than he truly
felt. “There it is,
Gossip City
, with its population of 8,749 busybodies looking
as normal as ever.”

Brother and sister had brought their ploughs
to a stop atop a rise and now sat looking down upon the town of
Vegar set out like an architect’s model on a desktop patchwork of
green and gold. They had made the journey to the town’s outskirts
as fast as their ploughs would go. It had taken them nearly an hour
and a half.

“The smoke’s just about gone,” Lars
continued. “Whatever caused it is probably under control by
now.”

The wind’s breath made soft waves in the
growing squares of crops around the town. There was nothing else
moving that they could see.

“
Y-e-s,” Helen replied cautiously. “It does
look
almost
normal, I agree, but I still think we should be very
careful if we go down there. It’s altogether too quiet for
me.”

* * *

Vegar, the capital of Trion and the
administrative seat for the planet, had been built in the shape of
a square to make it easier to defend. The outer buildings of the
town formed the walls of the square, their foundations going deep
into the solid black stone of the planet, so that they were as
enduring as the countryside itself.

To keep the town contained within its
walls, and to avoid a parallel to Earth’s history of urban sprawl,
new structures went
up
, rather than sideways. Each block of buildings had
warehouses, offices and shops on the first few levels, with several
storeys of apartments above. Moreover, Vegar’s architects had kept
the overall picture of the town in mind as they worked; for while
the buildings varied in size and style, each matched its neighbour
in the harmony of its proposal.

Likewise, the colours of the town had been
chosen to match its various seasonal settings. White, pastel blues,
greens, browns, plus dark reds and greys in a subtle range of
shades, blended as happily with the fallow charcoal coloured fields
of winter as they did with the more vibrant spring, summer and
autumn hues of greens, yellows, browns and golds.

The town was in fact a glorious view for
visitors and a recurring joy for those who called Vegar home.

* * *

The two ploughs began to move again. Ahead
of them, the black lava road stretched north in a straight line,
right up, as they knew, to the town centre, where the roads from
the four compass points met in the town square at
The
Queen’s Quadrangle,
as it
was called.

They did not enter the town’s gates, but came
to a stop some five hundred metres or so out to make a final
assessment of the situation.

As if on cue, a tocsin sounded – the town
hall bell. Lars had only ever heard it toll before on festive
occasions, such as Renaissance Day, Queen’s Birthday and New Year.
A loud speaker in the town crackled into life and its stentorian
voice echoed through the quiet streets.

Attention! Attention! Citizens of Vegar!
Stay inside your homes and no harm will come to you. We repeat,
stay inside your homes.

There was a pause. Lars held his breath.
Helen began to sob quietly. Then the strident tones began
again.

All fighting is now at an end
and our patrols are securing the town. Please stay inside your
homes. Martial law is now in effect. Anyone seen on the
streets
–
will be shot.

The warning repeated once more, then the
crackly speaker cut off and the equally ominous silence
returned.

For a second or two, brother and sister sat
stunned. It seemed impossible to believe that the familiar scene in
front of them could suddenly be so full of menace.

“Quick!” Lars gunned his rock plough
hover-motor back to life. “Let’s get these things off the
road.”

They drove the ploughs at speed twenty
metres or so down an adjacent trail – a firebreak or an old stock
route. The surrounding fields of wheat would not conceal the
ploughs completely. However, as Lars tried to reassure his sister,
what could be more natural in farmland than a plough or
two?

They stood together surveying the scene.

“We should try and make it home.” Helen
urged, her chin quivering, and her face beginning to moisten with
tears.

“That wouldn’t help,” Lars replied gently.
“If there is trouble here, it will reach us at home soon
enough.”

He was feeling strangely calm and
clear-headed, though he could feel his pulse pounding.

“What are we going to do then?” Helen’s voice
had faded to the faintest whisper, as if the very crops around
might hear.

“
You
are going to stay here,” Lars
whispered in turn. “I’m going to check out what’s happening
down
there
,” he
said, dipping his head in the direction of Vegar.

“
You are
not!”
his sister cried out
loud, then remembered her fears and continued in a whisper. “You’re
not going into Vegar. Didn’t you hear what they said? You’ll be
shot.”

Lars smiled. “I know what they said. But
who are they? I’m betting it’s the queen’s garrison playing war
games, or maybe a movie crew making a four-sense motion picture –
something like that. After all …”

Helen cut him short. “Who cares who they are
or what they’re doing. I don’t want you shot.” Her eyes had dried,
but her fears had not diminished.

“Nothing will happen to me,” Lars promised.
“Trust me.”

“That’s not what they said, and I’m not
prepared for you to take the risk. Nothing’s that important. Don’t
you understand? What if it’s just like they said? You could be
shot. Killed! Can’t you see that?”

Lars put a reassuring hand on her arm.
“I’ll be okay,” he said gently. “I’m sure we’ve got the whole thing
out of proportion. I’ll sneak into town, spy out the situation, and
then we’ll go home.”

He hoped he sounded more confident than he
felt. He glanced up at the position of Trion’s binary sun.

“
Give me until dark. That’s about two
hours. Besides, it’ll be a lot safer to travel home under the cover
of darkness if there
is
something wrong in town.

“
And please, Helen – wait here. Don’t get
any ideas of having a look round yourself.”

“I’m not that stupid,” Helen returned
bluntly.

For a moment she stared at him, her blue eyes
deeply troubled. Then she lifted her hands in a gesture of
helplessness.

“I’m not going to argue any more, Lars. I’m
afraid for you. I’m afraid for both of us. But you may be right.
Maybe I’m just being silly. I mean, who would want to attack us?
We’re nowhere and nobody. It doesn’t make sense. Just be careful,
that’s all. Think how I’d feel if anything happened to you. You’re
the only family I’ve got.”

Her fingers touched his arm. “You won’t have
to go right into town, will you?” Her eyes were red rimmed, but she
was determined not to repeat the tears.

“No. I’ll knock on the first door I come to,”
Lars replied as cheerfully as he could. “They should be able to
tell me what’s going on. But give me the two hours in case they
invite me in for dinner.”

It was a poor joke, but it made her
smile.

“All right,” she said, appearing calmer. “But
hurry back.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. She watched him
walk swiftly away. “Light speed!” she added in a whisper, when he
had gone.

* * *

“Well, so far so good,” Lars muttered under
his breath. “No sign of anyone wanting to shoot me.”

He was standing in the town’s main street,
just inside the South Gate, his senses poised on the sharp edge of
readiness. A canyon of tall buildings loomed ahead.

His glance darted round. There were no open,
welcoming doorways. His gaze flicked up and across the buildings
that towered either side of him, checking the many levels of
windows above. All had their curtains drawn.

You will be
shot.
The phrase resurfaced
in his mind and began to niggle at his confidence. For a moment, he
thought to turn tail and run. Courage, he told himself. There had
to be a simple answer. He could well imagine the ribbing he would
get from friends in town if he scuttled away from some idiot
playing the fool with a loudspeaker.

Then again, what if…? But who – pirates?
He shook his head – no, quite ridiculous. There hadn’t been a
pirate raid in over thirty years. And what about the pillars of
smoke that had first caught their attention? What had happened
there?

But wait – the fire. That made sense.
That’s where everyone had gone.

* * *

Lars felt calmer now. The fire, of course,
that was the answer. Nevertheless, he chose a narrow lane off the
main street that led into the labyrinthine market stall area of
Vegar, rather than advance farther out into the open. A small doubt
still nagged at the back of his mind. Better to remain invisible
for as long as possible, he decided.

His nerves tautened as he strained to listen
in the unfamiliar quiet. But he heard not one voice or rattle of
activity in his journey. He tried knocking on several doors, but
only silence answered. The town seemed deserted.

* * *

Lars continued via the narrow winding
alleyways of the market area. There were dozens of places to hide
in the maze of back streets if he needed to disappear quickly.

At length, he arrived without incident
at
The
Queen’s Quadrangle
– the
town centre, with its quaint cobble-stoned pathways, its bright
flower gardens, grass tetragons and trees. He had never seen it
empty before. He stopped outside the tall double red doors of the
Vegar bank. He tried the doors, but they were locked, despite it
being a normal workday. There was no sign of life
anywhere.