Free The Sword and the Plough by Carl Hubrick Page B

answer the young woman.
“Now miss, let’s not do anything stupid.”
    He tried to see what was happening, but it
was as if a thick mist was beclouding his vision. He fingered his
face, explored the sticky wet cuts, the painful contusions;
discovered one eye already swollen, burning – closing…
    Lars managed to roll onto his back. The two
troopers towered either side of him. He rubbed at his good eye. The
mist cleared enough for him to see the troopers were sweating
profusely from their recent exertion.
    He twisted his head painfully in the
direction of their gaze and saw a blur of yellow gown and auburn
hair.
    “ Come on now, miss, give me that,” one of
the troopers was saying. He was speaking quietly, patiently, as a
teacher might speak to a recalcitrant child. He put out his hand.
“Come on, miss. We mean you no harm.”
    The young woman was standing about five
metres distant, a huge Meredith pistol gripped firm in both hands.
The weapon seemed far too big for her petite grasp.
    The trooper who had spoken took a cautious
step forward. His mouth displayed an improbable smile.
    “Stay back,” the young woman snapped. “And
that’s my only warning.” The finned muzzle never wavered.
    “Look miss.” It was the same trooper
speaking, this time making an appeal to reason. “You can’t get away
with this. Your garrison’s finished. We’re in control now. Our
troopers are everywhere. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”
    But if the young woman was listening, she
gave no sign.
    “Help him up!” she ordered, motioning the
Meredith in Lars’s direction, her voice hard like a knife-edge on
stone. “And don’t try anything foolish, I’m used to handling one of
these.”
    The two troopers hauled Lars roughly to his
feet. His will fought to stay upright. His legs wobbled like
jelly.
    “ Now leave him and go .” The pistol waved
them away.
    The troopers stepped back a pace each,
leaving Lars swaying like a sapling in a gale. But they did not
go.
    Lars gazed at his saviour. Her long auburn
hair was in a tangle, her gown a mess. But no matter her state, she
looked like an angel.
    “Miss.” The second trooper spoke now, his
tone low and wary. “You are the one being foolish. If we don’t take
you in, you could be shot on sight.”
    No spoken answer came from the angel.
Instead, the pistol bucked in her hands, and its hoarse bark filled
the air. The ground between the trooper’s feet dissolved in a hiss
of blinding light. He jumped back, his boots smoking from the
closeness of the blast.
    “Go!” Her command was barely above a whisper,
but both men heard and began to back away.
    The Meredith pistol growled again, its
light-bolts melting a red-hot path along the ground toward them. As
one, they turned and ran.
    Lars tried hard to stop himself from
laughing, but it was no use. The sight of the two stalwart troopers
in full flight was too much to ignore. The laughter caught him like
a whip’s sharp crack in his sides. He grimaced and tried to wrap
the pain in with his arms.
    “Are you all right?” The voice that spoke now
was warm and gentle.
    Lars looked up and found himself gazing into
the most beautiful pair of hazel eyes he had ever seen.
    The young woman brushed away the wisps of
hair from her face with one hand; the Meredith pistol dangled
casually from the other.
    “Are you all right?” she asked again with a
concerned smile.
    Lars forgot his hurts and revelled in the
warmth of her smile. Suddenly, it seemed he had always known her,
loved her perhaps, though she was a complete stranger. He could not
explain the feeling, save that it came from somewhere deep inside
him.
    “ Yeah, I’ll live – I think,” he replied.
“Thanks for what you did.” He grinned ruefully. “Great hero I
turned out to be. I guess you rescued me in the end. Not the other
way round.”
    The hazel eyes regarded him
sympathetically. “I could not have got free without you,” she said.
“I think you were very