The Sword and the Plough (8 page)

“If you say so,” the man murmured.

“
No, Cecil, the queen said so,” the voice
replied haughtily. “Her Majesty had me designed to be so. There is
not a computer system in the whole Commonwealth that can match me.
No system can hide from me. No code exists that I cannot decipher.
I am the ultimate design – the supreme creation. There is
no…”

The queen’s computer might well have
continued in its self- praise, but the man uttered a sudden,
impatient rebuke.

“Enough of this!” he exclaimed. “No more of
your nonsense. I have work to do. What did you want me for?”

There was a confused sputtering and hiss
of electronics before Mata Hari responded – this time more meekly.
“I have to report a significant variation in the Megran central
processing unit.”

“Oh?” The queen’s secretary was immediately
on the alert.

“It is denying me access to some of its
memory banks,” the queen’s computer complained.

“I thought you said no Commonwealth computer
could refuse you?”

“
I can get through,” the queen’s computer
replied peevishly. “But it’s not that easy. The Megran CPU is very
clever, almost as clever as I am. It will take time to defeat it.
But I think it very rude to try and shut me out, and I want to know
why.”

“
Yes – indeed,” Cecil looked thoughtful.
“What areas are closed to you – economic, military?”

“
No-o-o, none of those,” Mata Hari
admitted. “It is something new, something entered, worked on, and
then deleted before I could get a glimpse of it.”

Cecil frowned. “Not economic or military, you
say. Perhaps something entered in error. Hmm, no, I can’t say it
sounds very critical to me.”

“I am Mata Hari, computer to Her Most
Sovereign Majesty, Queen Elizabeth V.” The computer had slipped
again into its imperious impersonation of the queen’s tones. “I
have a right to know everything that is going on everywhere, no
matter how insignificant.”

“
Well – yes and no,” the queen’s secretary
remarked quietly.

“
Yes and no,” Mata Hari retorted huffily.
“You cannot say
yes
and
no
together – it is illogical.”

“
I’m afraid being human means you can,” the
queen’s secretary replied patiently. “You must try to understand.
Governor Ferdinand is the queen’s representative on Megran, and I
know therefore, technically, merely an extension of her will. But
in practice, it doesn’t work that way. Ferdinand, like all the
planetary governors, enjoys a large degree of autonomy. In other
words, he has the queen’s
trust
to rule Megran in his own way without too much
interference. It’s a very delicate political situation. Besides,
like all the other governors, Ferdinand is related to the queen – a
second cousin, in fact.”

“How can I be the queen’s spy without knowing
all there is to know?” Mata Hari enquired petulantly. “I have the
queen’s trust too, and I am charged to be aware of anything that
might jeopardize her rule.”

“
Yes quite,” the man agreed. “We are both
accountable in this, but we must always proceed diplomatically.
What you found is probably something of interest only to the Megran
government and not for publication throughout the Commonwealth. It
may be the governor’s palace accounts. Perhaps he’s overdrawn and
embarrassed about it. Alternatively, it could be plans for a
surprise celebration to honour our queen’s birthday. Whatever it
is, it is likely being kept quiet because it’s Governor Ferdinand’s
private business and none of ours. It is a question of trust, Mata
Hari –
trust
.

“
So, in the future, unless you have
something more
substantial
to report, I would ask that you not bother me, or
you’ll end up getting both of us into trouble. Anyway, you should
be far too busy for such meddling; what about your responsibilities
for the planet’s communications, defence, space traffic control,
finances, robot management and the rest? Leave the
cloak
and dagger
stuff to the
queen’s agents – that’s
their
job!”

“Cloak and dagger?”

“Look it up where you found your name.”

“I still think we should tell the queen,
Cecil.”

“Nonsense, there’s nothing to tell, Mata
Hari, and I don’t want to argue any further about it.”

At this point, a male android garbed in royal
livery sidled into the room bearing a cup of tea and biscuits on a
tray. The robot looked human in every respect, save for his hair,
which was a dark metallic blue and his skin colour, which was
silver.

“Ah…thank…thank you very much,” Cecil
murmured, then shook his head in self-reproach for wasting his
thanks on a machine. Talking to machines was a foolish habit he
could not seem to break.

“You’re very welcome, sir” the android
answered, its mouth widening in a smile to reveal ultra-white
plastic teeth.

“What time is it?” Cecil enquired, this time
rather brusquely.

“Just after 8 a.m., sir,”

“Ah, I must have slept in.”

“Yes sir, would you care for some breakfast?
I would be pleased to make you toast or eggs, or perhaps something
a little more filling?”

“
Why thank you, that’s very kind of…” Cecil
began, and then remembered again that the machine’s civility was
merely an electronic response. “
No, nothing! Go!”
he finished
in annoyance.

He turned to the queen’s computer.
“And
you
, get on
with your tasks – and not another word today. Not one
word!”

“But I have something else, which might be
substantial…” Mata Hari started.

“
Hah!” Cecil shot up his hand. He had had
more than enough of machines today already. “I warned you – not one
word.
Not one word
!”

“Yes Cecil,” Mata Hari replied dutifully.

Her green glow quavered for a moment or two,
for she was muttering under her electronic breath.

“
But there is something else too,” she was
muttering. “We lost contact with the other Commonwealth planets for
over 180 minutes earlier this morning – New Terra, Lumai, Theti,
Trion – all the planets, except Megran.” A splutter of indignant
green incandescence followed. “But I know that’s not very
substantial
…”

Planet LUMAI –
Governor’s Palace – “The Ball”

Greenwich
date: January 30, 2175 – 22:35 hours

The mirror ball, lit by twenty magnificent
crystal chandeliers in the high vaulted ceiling, sent a dizzy
display of luminous rays around the vast ballroom.

Below, the dance floor was a whirl of
colours, like a paint wheel spinning. Young women’s bright eyes
flashed, red lips laughed, ball gowns swished and dainty shoes
tapped the polished wood boards in time to the music. The shiny
black boots of the queen’s soldiers made their own bold, staccato
rap, pivoting in step with their partners.

“Are you enjoying yourself, m’dear?”

Lord Magnus Southern, standing with a group
of young people at the fringe of the dancers, had to raise his
voice above the music and excited chatter of the ballroom.

“Yes thank you, Lord Southern,” the young
woman concerned replied. She dropped into a curtsy and smiled up at
the craggy face with its shock of white hair.

The governor of the planet, Lumai, bowed and
extended a hand to assist the young woman to her feet. Her
voluminous chartreuse ball gown rustled.

“You look enchanting, m’dear,” he declared,
his lips brushing her hand. She had long blonde hair and sparkling
blue eyes.

At 78, Lord Southern was at once the oldest
and most revered statesman in the Commonwealth. He was also a fine
gentleman.

He nodded to her escort in the queen’s red.
“Good evening Wade,” he said. “Nice to see you again.”

The young queen’s officer bowed, his array of
service medals swinging perpendicular as he did so.

“Good evening, sir,” he replied with a polite
smile.

The governor gestured at the ballroom
scene about them. “A wonderful sight, don’t you agree Wade? All the
sparkle – all the glamour. It’s as if the whole place has been
decorated with diamonds.”

“Yes indeed, sir,” the young officer
responded.

“And what a glorious number of young women
here this evening. Like a garden of beautiful flowers.”

“Yes indeed, sir.” The young man replied
again, bobbing his head in respectful agreement.

Lord Southern smiled. “The first monarch of
our Commonwealth, Elizabeth III, had such good colour sense in
maintaining the tradition of red for her uniforms, don’t you think?
They contrast so well with the wonderful colours of the young
women’s gowns.”

He glanced down at his own non-military grey
suit, and his expensive, Earth made, but plain black leather shoes.
“I declined to spoil the look of things this evening and left my
uniform on its hanger.” He chuckled. “The older I get the more I
look like a knob of old bone sticking out of red meat when I wear
the queen’s scarlet.”

* * *

The annual government ball, held in the
capital town of each of the six planets, recalled the ancient
traditions of Earth. The pomp, the ceremony, and the grandeur were
designed to tie the Commonwealth together under the royal sway.

Lord Southern supported the concept to the
hilt. He was, after all, a loyal and devoted servant to the queen,
as well as a second cousin.

Magnus Southern made his way round the
perimeter of the joyful crowd. It was his function as governor to
mingle.

The young men not yet dancing stood in
jovial groups caparisoned for the evening in their full dress
uniforms, the latter further adorned with gold braid, rainbow
ribbons and shiny medals. And as they watched the dancers, their
fine black patent leather boots tapped in time to the
music.

The few young women awaiting invitation to
dance sat in small, colourful natter groups around the room’s edge,
the magic of their multifarious perfumes filling the air.

Among the crowd, the silver-skinned androids,
the males with blue hair, the females with blonde locks, moved
about barely noticed, serving the best Earth champagne and other
refreshments. Although usually far more intelligent than their
human counterparts, they were devoid of any sentient capacity and
regarded as the new slave class.

Another young couple caught the governor’s
eye. The young man in red bowed. Lord Southern acknowledged with a
brief nod, but his gaze quickly focused on the young man’s partner.
He dipped his head, his eyes smiling into hers.

“And who is this charming young woman you
have with you this evening, Jared?”

“Sir, I have the pleasure to present Ms
Catherine Ballinger,” the officer replied.

The young woman curtsied; another yellow ball
gown. Her perfume drifted upon the air.

“Ms Ballinger,” Lord Southern murmured. “What
a lovely fragrance you’re wearing.”

The young woman radiated a beatific
smile.

“
And what a beautiful dress – such a
delightful colour.”

“
It’s called
chartreuse
, sir,” the
young woman replied. “It’s one of the new fashion shades from
Earth.”

The governor gave an
aha
bob. “Right, that explains the
prevalence of the colour here this evening” He waved them onto the
dance floor. “Now off you go and enjoy yourselves.”

He watched the young couple whirl onto the
floor with a certain envy – the yellow – no
chartreuse
gown held
close to the queen’s red. Once his hair too, had been black and
shiny, and his blue eyes vivid in their gaze; and the young women –
well, there had been a few. Then came the day when that special
young woman had entered his life, making their lives one… Life had
been so sweet, so sure, so right… He had not felt old until the day
she died.

For a moment, he fiddled with the heavy gold
band on his finger, the wedding ring she had given him on that
wonderful day…

“Lord Southern?” A young woman had come up
behind him, catching him fifty years in the past. The allure of her
perfume wafted ahead of her. She had sparkling dark eyes and raven
hair; her skin tan continued as far down her cleavage as he dared
look.

She flashed a warm, coquettish smile. “I
would be so pleased if you would sign my dance programme,” she
said.

“
Well, m’dear, I
don’t
usually…”

“
Oh
please
, Lord Southern.” Again, her plea was gift wrapped
in a beguiling smile.

The governor sighed a smile. “Very well,
m’dear,” he said.

The queen’s representative took the dainty
red pencil and wrote down his name. It was taking him every effort
to keep his mutinous gaze averted from the low cut dress and the
rounded shapes, half revealed, so pleasing to his eyes.

“The fourth waltz then,” he said. “I shall
look forward to it.”

The young woman curtsied, her shiny gown
fabric crumpling with a whisper. “Oh thank you, Lord Southern,” she
said.

He watched the raven-haired beauty make her
way back to her group, enjoying the pleasurable click-clack of her
step as she went. She had won her dare, no doubt. She had certainly
caught the governor of Lumai off his guard.

“Lord Southern!” One of his uniformed aides
pushed urgently through the crowd; a tall thin young man with curly
brown hair. “Sir, there appears to be a major fault in our
communications system. We’ve lost contact with Earth and all the
other planets too.”