The Sword and the Plough

by Carl Hubrick

  Lars came over to the tall windows where Caroline stood, nose pressed against the plasarm-glass, looking down on the planet. He had never been afraid of heights before, but suddenly the boundless depths outside the glass, and the giant mass of the planet floating far beneath, made him feel unsteady on his feet. He reeled backwards.

  Caroline smiled. “Do you suffer from vertigo, Lars?”

  He nodded. His mouth had gone dry and for an instant, he could not speak.

  “I did too, the first time,” Caroline went on. “But now I like to use the feeling to make believe I’m out there, that I’m a part of it, free to fly forever through the universe and beyond, just as Keb’s wisdom described.”

  She raised her arms and flattened her body against the glass.

  Lars reached out tentatively and touched the window with his fingertips, then his whole hand, finally both hands. As he did, it seemed to him that something in that vast emptiness beyond was reaching out to him and he marvelled at it; and he began to reach out in turn, seeking to understand the infinite mystery, the unparalleled adventure of the living universe and the multiverse* beyond.

  Lars did not hear the door at the other end of the room sigh softly open, nor was he aware of another presence in the room until he felt Caroline’s touch on his arm.

  The young man who had just entered was of average height and slimly built. His blue overalls were work stained and faded. His tanned complexion spoke of time exposed to the Megran sun. Blue eyes, sapphire in the depth of their colour, looked out from beneath a mop of wavy black hair. But there was no mistaking the family resemblance. It was Old Seth’s son all right.

  “Welcome Lady Caroline – Lars,” the young man said, bowing slightly in obeisance to Caroline. “Welcome to my home.”

  However, there was a coolness in his manner, which belied his words and Lars wondered why.

  “Jeremiah has told me of you and your needs,” the young man continued. “And he has also expressed to me my father’s wish that I should do all in my power to help you. I will therefore, do what I can.”

  “We are indeed grateful for your help.” Caroline was speaking now, but with a formality in her tone, which showed her unease. “And be assured,” she was saying, “the queen will be informed of your loyalty and the services you and your father have rendered in her hour of need…”

  Caroline would no doubt have said more, but all at once, Young Seth raised his hand, stopping her.

  “Please, Lady Caroline,” he said. “I am willing to fulfil my father’s wishes in the best way I am able. But it must be understood right from the start that neither my father nor I seek any reward in this.”

  “I understand, but the queen would want…” Caroline began.

  “Please!” the young man interjected again, his insistent tone rising. “My father is a good and simple man who would feel it his duty, indeed an honour, to assist your cause. He is a gentle man who would not have wished to offend you, and thus he may not have expressed his own wishes on this clearly enough – if at all.”

  Young Seth dropped his gaze for a moment and studied the floor, as if debating with himself how much more he need say.

  At length, he made up his mind. “Before we go any further there are matters I must explain.”

  Again, he contemplated the floor, as if some words of advice were written thereon.

  “You know my father is a convict?”

  Caroline nodded.

  “But you are not aware of his crime?”

  Caroline shook her head.

  “Then I will explain.”

  The young man paused, pulling his thoughts together.

  “They came – five years ago now,” he began. “Ferdinand’s men, with warrants and other legal documents to disguise their purpose, but they came as thieves nevertheless. They accused him of tax evasion, my father, who had always been so honest – they accused him.

  And they invented an enormous sum which he could never hope to pay.” Young Seth shook his head. “They didn’t want taxes. They wanted a source to bleed, to feed Ferdinand’s hunger for empire. And so, they sentenced him to fifteen years – fifteen years – a hostage to keep me here to work for Ferdinand – the evil prince of Megran.

  “The unspoken threat was my father’s safety if I did not comply. They spoke of his crime. But the only crime was the one which they committed.”

  The young man finished speaking and stared at them silently. He looked like he wanted to cry. It was in the droop of his face, the wilt of his limbs and torso.

  “Did you not think to invoke the queen’s justice?” Caroline asked gently after a brief spell of silence. “It is there for all, no matter their status. Perhaps it is not too late, even now.”

  “No!” For a moment, the young man’s eyes seemed to burn. “No! We can never do that,” he said.

  “I’m sure the queen would want to help…”

  His ‘No’ came again, more emphatic, more adamant.

  “I must have your promise that no one will ever know who it was planned your escape. I must have your promise or I cannot help you.”

  “Yes, of course,” Caroline replied in a low voice. “If that’s what you wish.”

  “I do. Do you swear it?”

  “You have my word.”

  “And mine, too,” Lars added.

  “As a respected member of our royalty I accept your word, Lady Caroline. Thank you.”

  He glanced over at Lars. “I accept your word too, Lars. But please understand I put my trust in you to keep it.”

  “It was not given lightly,” Lars replied.

  Young Seth nodded.

  “You need a ship to take you to Earth,” the young man began again, abruptly changing the subject.

  “Yes, can you find us passage?” Caroline enquired eagerly.

  He nodded.

  “How soon can we leave?” Lars asked.

  “In one hour,” Young Seth replied. “Jeremiah will be your pilot. If anyone can get you through, he can. In the meantime, please feel free to use the facilities on board. There is food in the kitchen, and if you should wish to shower and have a change of clothes…”

  Caroline smiled. “Thank you very much. Something to eat, a chance to freshen up, and a change of clothes would be wonderful.”

  The young man gave a curt nod. “Good. Jeremiah will call you in an hour. Meanwhile, I’m sorry, but I must leave you. I have much to attend to.”

  He turned on his heel to go, then stopped and turned back to face them. “Good luck,” he said with a stiff bow. Then he was gone.

  * * *

  They showered and found a supply of fresh T-shirts and jeans, similar to those that Old Seth had provided.

  “Standard stock issue, I guess,” Lars commented with a grin. “At least they don’t bear the logo.”

  Caroline laughed. “Yes, I couldn’t bear that,” she said.

  After wandering through a maze of empty dormitory type rooms, they found the kitchen.

  The kitchen was commercial in size. Designed to feed a large crew, it had tables enough to seat fifty.

  There were no chefs or cooks, but Lars and Caroline were able to find readymade pizzas in the vast freezers and the means to reheat them.

  “So, what did you make of Young Seth?” Lars asked as they sat down to eat. “Seemed a rather offhand fellow to me.”

  Caroline frowned. “He’s hiding something. I don’t know what, but it is something serious. Something he is afraid to tell us.”

  “You mean about his father’s crime?”

  “Hmm! Well, his father’s crime, if crime indeed there was, is now out in the open. Therefore, it must be something other than that.”

  A frown wrinkled her brow for an instant before she continued.

  “I can understand his fear that Ferdinand might somehow get to hear that he helped us. Such alarm is just plain common sense. However, what I do not understand is his fear of the queen. Her Majesty’s gratitude for a mission such as this wo
uld be boundless. She would pardon his father without a doubt. Indeed, I would so recommend it. For such assistance and loyalty she would bestow more rewards and wealth than most people receive in a lifetime.”

  Lars nodded soberly. “I agree. There is something very strange about… Well, about everything.”

  They ate silently for a time still pondering Young Seth’s bizarre manner.

  All at once, Lars broke the quiet. “But hey, it doesn’t matter,” he exclaimed excitedly. “What matters most is we have a ship.” He was grinning hugely. “We’re on our way.”

  Caroline caught his enthusiasm. She cupped Lars’s face in her hands and kissed him passionately on the mouth.

  “We are on our way,” she repeated happily. “Ferdinand – look out, your evil days are done.”

  * * *

  The shuttlecraft moved out slowly using its micro-thrusters only until it had cleared the docking tower. On the control panel, the red magnetic mooring light flickered once, twice, and then went off, indicating the vessel was now free of external control and able to proceed under its own power. Jeremiah pushed the joystick to starboard, and the little craft pointed its nose out to the stars.

  Jeremiah pulled back on the solar thrust throttles and the little delta-winged craft began to move more swiftly. A second later, it was skimming over the white rim of the space station, heading into the blue-black abyss of space.

  Caroline again had the middle seat of the three on the little craft’s bridge.

  “How far is it to our ship, Jeremiah?” Caroline asked, as they got under way.

  “Not too far, miss. If it weren’t for all this,” he said, waving a hand at the mass of space junk ahead of them, “you’d be able to see her right now.”

  Caroline looked puzzled. “She arrived very quickly, Jeremiah. Was she in orbit somewhere in the vicinity?”

  “In a way, miss,” he answered.

  The young woman tried another tack.

  “Where did she come from originally?” she queried. “What port?”

  “Well miss.” Jeremiah paused and looked steadily at her. “She’s been here all the time.”

  Caroline’s hazel eyes widened in disbelief mixed with some horror.

  “Not one of those derelicts out there?” she protested.

  “She’s no derelict, miss,” Jeremiah responded quietly. “She’s well found and space worthy. In fact, the finest little vessel you could ever hope to find. Aye, and she’s fast too and well armed. She’ll give a good account of herself, if it comes to it.”

  “You mean fight? Fire upon another vessel? You would even contemplate it?” Caroline’s voice had risen sharply, the strain of the last few days beginning to tell. “I do not want to start a war, Jeremiah. I’m trying to stop one.”

  The young woman paused to regain her composure.

  “Look Jeremiah,” she began again at length. “I’m beginning to be concerned about things. I do not want our mission jeopardised. Tell me please, what is this ship and where does she come from?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much, miss, not without Young Seth’s say so.”

  “Listen to me, Jeremiah. I do not pretend to know what’s going on, what the big mystery is all about. But I want you to know I’ve had enough of the secrecy, all the ambiguities. I want some straight answers.” Caroline’s tone bore the power of a royal.

  “Lars and I carry information that is vital to the security of our Commonwealth. Ferdinand will be watching every port, every ship. We cannot risk being caught…” Her words hung in the air. “Do you understand, Jeremiah?”

  Caroline waited a second or two, but when Jeremiah did not respond her jaw tightened and she carried on. “Jeremiah, in the queen’s name, I order you to tell me. Where does this ship come from?”

  Still he did not answer. Caroline glared at the old man. The intensity in her voice rose. “Jeremiah, I, Lady Caroline Tudor, next in line to the throne, command you to answer me. Where – does – this -ship – come – from?”

  Finally, their pilot nodded his acquiescence. But he did not answer straight away. He was too intent on maneuvering the small craft through the narrow gaps, the hidden channels, in the floating mass of sun-perished plasarm and the jagged spikes of space-rotted metals. It was a labyrinth of junk, with traps and pitfalls for the unwary at every turn. All at once, Lars realised that that indeed was what it was, and that their pilot knew the way through the perilous maze only too well.

  At last Jeremiah spoke. “I reckon I can guess what Young Seth has told you,” he said, his eyes still fixed firm on his task. “And I guess I know too what he hasn’t.” He exhaled a sigh. “It’s quite a story.”

  He dropped the little craft into a sudden dive down a narrow funnel of barbed wreckage. When the way became clear, he carried on with his tale.

  “A son has a duty to his father and to his own. And that will always come first,” he said, beginning his explanation. “Young Seth has kept a few truths back in an effort to protect his father – and no one can lay blame on him for that. Had it been up to him, I doubt he would not have offered you any help at all. He’s doing what his father asked him to do – in his honour – not what he, the son, thinks is right.”

  Caroline nodded her understanding. “We are not ungrateful, Jeremiah,” she said softly.

  “Old Seth and I go back a long ways together,” Jeremiah went on in a low voice. “In fact, there ain’t a time I can remember when Seth and I didn’t know one another. Leastways, it seems like that to me. So, I guess that gives me the right, under the circumstances, to say what I’m about to say.”

  The old man paused for a moment and his gaze flickered across his passengers. He gave a slow smile. A sad smile, Lars thought.

  “The truth’s simple,” he continued, “even if there ain’t no easy way of saying it. And if I’m putting Old Seth’s head in a noose, I’m putting mine in one as well.”

  Caroline glanced across at Lars. There was exasperation in her look. But she did not attempt to rush the old man.

  “You see, that ship out there is Old Seth’s ship, his and mine. And she’s been waiting out there for nigh on thirty years. Waiting for her day – waiting to run if ever we should need her.”

  “Run?” Caroline echoed. “I don’t understand. Why should you want to run? And where would you run to?”

  “The where to ain’t so easy, miss, but the why… Now there’s a yarn or two to tell if we had the time.”

  The old man broke-off the telling, his concentration fixed for an instant on maneuvering around a jagged metal section of something, which had unexpectedly drifted into their path.

  “You see, miss,” he continued when the peril was past. “We broke the law, Seth and I. And I make no excuses for it. We did what we did and that’s the truth of it…”

  Another hazard interrupted his account again. The danger of a collision was once more all about them. Sharp edged metal shards as fearsome as battle-axes swirled around them.

  Caroline’s frustration was plain on her face.

  At length the old man resumed his tale. “Thirty years ago we stopped a freighter. We boarded her and took her crew captive, then set them adrift in their life capsules. Then we stripped the ship of her cargo and everything else of value that we could find.”

  He looked over at Caroline and Lars, and his final words made his story plain.

  “And then the king’s warships came and we fired on them and made a run for it.” He shrugged.” And we’ve been on the run ever since.”

  Caroline gasped. “Pirates! You’re pirates! Then the ship’s a…”

  Jeremiah nodded. “Aye miss, the Stellar Gypsy’s a pirate vessel. And Seth and I still have a price on our head and the death penalty, by hanging, if we’re taken.”

  The young woman frowned. It was plain she was worried. “Pirates! So that’s why Young Seth seemed so upset when we mentioned telling the queen.”

  “Aye! Young Seth’s been brought up with the fear, miss.
He’s known it all his life.”

  Jeremiah gave a faint smile. “Time passed, and Seth and I grew successful hauling scrap and waste. There’s a lot of money in other people’s rubbish. An irony ain’t it? But we never tried to fool ourselves. We always knew that one day the Stellar Gypsy would have to run again.”

  “And so you hid the ship out here in all this junk,” Lars murmured.

  Jeremiah grinned. “What better place to hide her?”

  “And you’re prepared to risk your life and fly her now – for us.” Caroline said quietly with sudden understanding.

  “She’ll never be more needed,” Jeremiah replied simply.

  * * *

  The pirate ship was small and they did not see her until they were almost on top of her, hidden as she was between two grey and rotted freighters. She floated, waiting in the dark silence of space like a sleek bird of prey, tethered to the protective maternal shapes of the plump old hulks.

  She was a narrow beamed vessel, of not more than thirty metres in length. Her lean straight lines gave her more the appearance of a missile than a ship. Shiny silver, with a black stripe running from bow to stern along the row of portholes, it was clear she had been lovingly maintained, from the long, rapier like scanner in her nose, to the six solar engines in a ring round her stern. The engine nacelles reminded Lars of the revolving chambers of the ancient projectile handguns he had seen in books under the classification: Revolvers. Three snub-nosed light-bolt cannons jutted out from under her fuselage at the bow.

  * * *

  “I’m not trying to condone what we did,” Jeremiah said once the little pirate ship was under way. “Just trying to explain why we did it.”

  The Stellar Gypsy slipped through the last hazardous channel in the junk fields and broke into open orbit. Her pilot pulled back on the throttle and the little ship increased her speed.