The Sword and the Plough Read Online Free

the
dashboard.
    The communicator crackled. “Lars, are you
okay?” Helen’s voice was urgent, troubled. “There’s black smoke
everywhere.”
    Lars struggled upright. He rubbed his
forehead. A smudge of red came back on his fingers. “Sure Sis, I’m
fine, just a minor hiccup.”
    “Are you sure everything’s all right? I can’t
even see you for the smoke. Do you want me to drive over?”
    Lars began a laugh, which ended in a fit
of coughing. “I can’t see you either, Sis,” he managed to utter at
last. “But don’t worry, there’s no danger – its only smoke. Damn
power-rod must have cracked.”
    “Can you fix it?”
    “Yeah, should be able to as soon as the
share’s cooled down enough. I’ve got a spare rod somewhere…” He
gave a sudden start. “Oh no, damn it, the power to the share just
shorted.” Lars tweaked the fuse-box switches. “Right, I’ve got
power back.” He wrestled with a host of levers. “Okay, I’m bringing
the share up now.”
    A heavily insulated floor panel rolled
back and the Made on Earth stamp showed on the ploughshare as it rose. A
miniature whirlwind of hot, black dust rose along with
it.
    He waved to the distant figure in the other
rock plough.
    “Yeah, broken power-rod, Sis, but no other
damage. Damn hot though. Look, I’ll have to shut the power off to
make the repair. I’ll call you back when I’m done.”
    The hum of the hover motors tapered into
silence and the little machine settled to the ground with a
grateful hiss, a silver dot on a broad canvas of black.
    Lars slipped off his sweat soaked shirt and
pulled on a fresh one. He sat on his heels by the still hot share.
It would need a while yet to be cool enough to work on.
    All at once, the plough’s thin electronic
computer voice came to life. The CPU – the central processing unit
– had an independent power supply.
    “ You have located the
malfunction, farmer. Replacement power-rod required. ”
    “Well, I knew that much already,” Lars
muttered, “and what’s more, I think I’ve got one somewhere.”
    He rummaged round in the box of spares he
carried. A blanket of black dust covered the parts. Disturbing the
dust caused Lars another bout of coughing. Repairs were best made
in the cool of the shed back home. Outside, with no power, meant no
cooling fans to ward off the 50 degree Celsius heat.
    The tinny electronic voice spoke up again.
“ The farmer
knows this much already. The farmer has one
somewhere .”
    An amber light flashed on the instrument
panel; a timer had been activated.
    “ Proceed farmer, you are now 0.9
minutes behind the average repair time for this
task .”
    “Yeah, yeah, I’m working on it.”
    “ Farmer is working on
it, ” the computer
reiterated.
    Lars pulled a face. The plough was old. Its
computer had no built in personality like the later models. It was
functional to the point of insult.
    “Ah, this one looks like it might do.” Lars
muttered. He wiped the spare power-rod clean with a rag.
    “ This one looks like it might
do ,” the metallic voice
echoed. “ Proceed farmer, you are now 1.1 minutes behind the average
repair time for this task. You will need to pursue your undertaking
more adroitly. ”
    The last was too much. Lars exploded. “Look
Silicone Head, you try and work in this heat.”
    “ The temperature is 51 degrees, Celsius.
You must work in this heat, farmer. You are now lagging 1.7 minutes
behind the average…”
    The metallic voice might well have had
further helpful comment to impart, but before it could do so, Lars
had plucked out its voice chip and trampled its opinions under a
heavy black boot.
     
    * * *
     
    Lars switched on the power. The cooling fans
came back on. The hover motors lifted the little machine into the
air. He lowered the repaired ploughshare into position, ever
careful to ensure the share was angled downward. A laser-share
fired horizontally could devastate everything in its path for
upward of 100 metres. Such accidents