The King's War

by Andrew Stanek

“Next,” Ms. Diane said, after the rancor had again subsided. “King Edward, in his wisdom and benevolence, made a visit to the tractor factory in Bard canton and made a variety of suggestions during his visit for the improvement of efficiency. In honor of His Majesty’s visit, the agricultural office has decreed that all village farms will receive a new tractor for common usage. They sincerely hope that you will all thank King Edward for his munificence and that output will improve as a result of this delivery.”

  There was much cheering at the news of the King’s visit to the tractor factory. Some people burst out into another chorus of “All Hail King Edward.”

  “New tractors?” Martin said with confusion. “Do you think the King really could have improved efficiency at the tractor factory that much by going to visit? So much that everyone gets new tractors, I mean?”

  “Well, I guess,” Will answered cautiously. “I mean, I guess you’d work harder if the King came to visit, wouldn’t you?”

  “I’d work at least twice as hard if the King came to visit us here,” Nate agreed fervently.

  “Do you think that the new tractor will help us meet that extra 100 gram per person per day target?” Will asked Harry.

  Harry didn’t seem to have moved an inch throughout the whole meeting so far. His arms remained crossed over the straps and chest of his overalls. He nodded slightly.

  “Sure it will,” came his terse answer.

  “Was there anything wrong with the old tractor?” Martin asked curiously.

  “Plenty.”

  “You think we’re gonna keep using both tractors?”

  Harry shrugged. “Probably.”

  Will, meanwhile, was wondering about what the newer model tractors were like. He’d seen the old tractor, for community use on the village farm and the farmer’s plots, and it wasn’t much younger than the dinosaurs. The old machine was covered in rust and dirt, and Will was sure a lot of the parts needed replacing - not that they could afford spare parts for it. Maybe the new tractor would have one of those fancy electric starters, which didn’t force you to hand crank it to get it going. Or maybe it would run cleaner and quieter. Maybe it had a good engine - the same kind of engine that you’d need for an airplane.

  Like all the other outcries, the furor over the tractor and the King’s visit to the factory died down. Ms. Diane looked like she wanted to make another announcement, but before she had the chance, a uniformed soldier wearing officer’s bars and the insignia of the King’s Guard ran onto the stage. He whispered something urgently in her ear and stuffed a piece of paper in Ms. Diane’s hand. They consulted urgently for a second, and the confused expression on Ms. Diane’s face quickly transformed itself into a smile. Everyone in the hall fell silent. They had all sensed what Will had sensed - something important was about to happen.

  “I have just received news that the military’s strategic rocket command has successfully test-fired a missile,” she shouted with apparent jubilation. “This missile is capable of striking any rebel target anywhere - on land or sea - within five hundred kilometers and represents a great success for us and our military!”

  This time the applause was thunderous. Everyone understood that this was something they were supposed to clap for, to clap long and hard for, until their hands turned red. Will stood to applaud with the rest. Now he understood what the thing that he and everyone else had seen streaking up through the sky was. It had been so much unlike anything else he’d ever seen in the air - not a balloon or a plane, but a rocket.

  “The strategic rocket command,” Ms. Diane continued, for the hundredth time struggling to make herself heard over the din, “has hailed this as a powerful defensive weapon against the rebels and the Black Force, and warns them that if they mount another unprovoked attack - as they did this past week, by both land and sea - they will face the wrath of the King’s rocket arsenal. Along with our soldiers on the land and our dreadnoughts and u-boats at sea, it represents a huge advantage for our armed forces. Let it strike terror into the hearts of our enemies!”

  There was another roar of approval from the crowd.

  “Wow. They can really build something like that?” Nate said, apparently awestruck by the image of the thing he’d seen hurdling through the air. “Look, Will, I know it’s your dream to build an airplane, but think of how hard it must be to make a rocket.”

  Will had no idea how hard it was to build a rocket, so he could think of nothing to say by way of reply. Nate didn’t seem to care. He just clapped his hands.

  “I’ve read a lot about rockets,” Martin said, also clapping furiously. “I read all the cutting-edge literature about them, but I thought it was all just theoretical. You know, if we could get everything exactly right then we could get a rocket to fly to a particular place without exploding. It requires a really volatile mix of chemicals, like hydrazine - or solid oxidizer mixed with fuel. And they’re supposed to be able to go a hundred times faster than ships or trains or even planes. I can’t believe they actually built one.”

  “And we saw it with our own eyes,” Will agreed. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, but everyone around him was in uproar, maybe for the fifth time that morning. This unexpected announcement seemed to take the cake though, as people just kept applauding and applauding endlessly.

  “The King has decreed,” Ms. Diane shouted hoarsely, “that in honor of this tremendous achievement, there are to be celebrations everywhere this weekend. The army band is going to come to town this weekend and play for us - there will be a dance - a feast - a pageant by the lower school...”

  She rattled off the list of things that would be involved in the festivities. Will was not entirely sure that anyone was still listening though - the room seemed to have started celebrating furiously already.

  “Does that mean we’re not working on the road this Sunday after all?” Martin asked.

  “I guess we’ll do it next Sunday,” Will answered. “And we’ll do the irrigation pipes the Sunday after that.”

  Ms. Diane continued to rattle off the list of things they’d be doing in celebration of the rocket launch; it seemed to go on for an hour. When she finally finished, and the town’s cheering eventually died down, she transitioned to a new announcement.

  “Also, the King is greatly concerned by the increasing news of homeless children who have been a source of crime and vagrancy - picking pockets, stealing food, begging, and so on and so forth. He has, in his wisdom, decided that the problem must be immediately fixed and has ordered the construction of new schools and orphanages in every canton for the purpose of adequately housing, feeding, and educating these children. There have been numerous reports of homeless children around here, too. Both out in the junkyard, where they forage for parts to sell and food, and in the village itself.” Ms. Diane’s sharp gaze fell on Mack, the barkeep, who stared unblushingly back at her. “The Public Welfare Office reminds us that it is not their fault that they are homeless, and it is our responsibility, as a society, to take care of them. Please do not treat them harshly or badly; instead, if you see a homeless child, tell me and I will notify the Public Welfare Office, who will take them to the orphanage, where they will be fed and clothed. While I realize you see these children as potential criminals, I want to say again - it is not their fault that they are homeless, and it is our duty to provide for them.”

  This declaration was not met with any applause. Rather, most people - particularly those who ran businesses and market stalls - looked a little ashamed. Most among them had cuffed a homeless child for pilfering or thrown them out on their ears with the threat of arrest or harsh treatment if they came back.

  Will leaned over and tapped Harry on the leg.

  “It was really good of you and your folks to take me in Harry, you know, after my parents died. Without you I might have ended up like those homeless kids.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Harry said tersely. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I couldn’t let you end up out on the street. Besides, you p
ulled your weight on the farm.”

  “Will’s right,” Nate piped in. “It was good of you, Harry - because you’re a good guy.”

  “I wonder why there is homelessness,” Martin said, frowning. “Homeless children especially. I mean, I read about how we build enough houses for everyone.”

  “It’s because of the rebels,” Nate said immediately. “It’s like it was with Will. Their artillery, their raids... they destroy houses... ruin lives. Send people out on the streets. These kids - if their families are dead, who’s going to support them?”

  “Well, I hope they get roofs over their heads and enough to eat in these orphanages,” Martin said cautiously.

  “‘Course they will,” Nate shot back. “We’ll make sure they get enough to eat. We’ll send them some food, won’t we?” He looked pointedly at Harry, who simply shrugged.

  Diane finished her speech about the homeless boys and girls, giving a few more points about the orphanages, before moving on.

  “The last item we have to discuss this week is another matter for celebration. You all know already that our high school class graduated this past week.”

  Martin tensed. His hands clenched into fists and Will knew that this was the announcement he had been waiting for.

  “I would like to commend the hard work of all of our fine young people,” Diane continued, “it is your brilliance and intelligence that continues to make our nation the most advanced in the world and all the technological advances - including those we’ve talked about today - possible. You are our future. With that in mind, I have an exciting announcement to make. One of you has been chosen to go study in the capital.”

  Martin’s fist clenched even tighter. A wave of whispers washed over the auditorium. Being admitted to one of the universities or schools in the capital was a great honor.

  “Willian Gurnsley,” she called. “Your score on the national exam puts you at the top of your class - the highest in the canton.” Will stood in shock as he heard his name being called. Was it really him? He’d been chosen to study in the capital? Every person in the whole village turned to look at him. Martin’s expression was unreadable - his eyes were blank.

  Will had trouble remembering the rest. Ms. Diane beckoned him onto the stage. Everyone stood to clap for him, as they had clapped for the soldiers, for the public works program, for the King’s tractors, for the rocket... they applauded him the loudest of all. Ms. Diane had wrung his hand - and several others of the town officials had done the same. Ms. Steagal, their teacher and Martin’s mother, had hugged him in congratulations for his achievement. There was no resentment in her eyes that he had beaten out her son... and then it was over. Some minutes later, Will found himself standing outside the town hall, holding an envelope with the necessary papers inside and a train ticket to the capital. He found his friends standing on the other side of the street, near the canteen.

  Martin gulped as he saw Will, then slowly nodded and cuffed him on the shoulder.

  “Good job,” he said. “I’m happy for you.”

  Will felt guilt churn in his gut. It had always been Martin’s dream to go to the capital and study medicine.

  “Guys,” he said awkwardly as he approached them. “The train ticket - it’s for tomorrow. I’m leaving right away. I’m not gonna be able to go to the festival with you guys-”

  “Hey, it’s okay,” Nate said, waving it away. “We all knew you were gonna go to the capital sooner or later. You were always the smart one. What are you studying?”

  “I’m going to the Crown Technical School, mechanics program. I’m gonna train to be a mechanic. Then I’ll come back to the village. I promise.”

  “Mechanics?” Nate asked. “I’m surprised, Will. I always thought you were going to become an officer. Get back at the rebels for what they did to your parents.”

  Will shook his head. “No... no, all I want to do is build an airplane. That was my father’s dream. He was always talking about it, about how he wanted to fly... and now that he can’t, I’ll do it. I owe him that much.”

  Slowly, Nate nodded. “Sure,” he said. “I understand. You’re gonna make them proud. Make us all proud.”

  After a pause, Will turned to Martin.

  “I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly.

  “No, it’s okay. I - I think I knew I wasn’t really going to go to the capital. My dad says he knows a doctor in the next canton over. I’m going to go apprentice under him. Then I’ll come back here and be the village doctor. We haven’t had one since Doc Littleton died, and it’s still my dream. So don’t worry Will. It may not be the way I planned it, but I’ll learn medicine one way or another. Then I’ll come back to the town too, you know, and patch you all up when you need it.”

  He grinned at Harry. Harry had scored near the bottom of the class in the national exams, but that didn’t much matter to him. He tugged at the straps of his overalls and shrugged.

  “Well, you know where to find me,” he said. “I’m gonna be a farmer. I never made a secret of that. I’ll see you guys around, I guess.”

  Will turned to Nate.

  “What about you, Nate? You’ve decided-”

  “Yeah, I decided a long time ago. I’m gonna join the army. I hope they’ll put me somewhere where I can fight the rebels, but I dunno where I’m gonna be based. So maybe this is goodbye. Oh, come on guys, don’t give me that look,” he said, glancing at their faces. “Someone had to go. The King needs soldiers. And look, we always knew this was going to happen, didn’t we? Some of us are soldiers, some of us are farmers, some of us are doctors, and some of us are scholars,” he looked at Will and grinned. Will grinned sheepishly back.

  “Well, you know, I’ll see you guys again once I’ve studied up.”

  He shook Nate’s hand, then Harry’s, then Martin’s. Martin looked him in the eye as he did this.

  “Good luck building your airplane.”

  Chapter 3

  Two years after he had left for the capital, Will found himself looking out the elevated window of a train. He caught a glimpse - though it was only a glimpse - of the sleek aluminum airframe of a military fighter aircraft. It was one of the most cutting edge models - a big whirling propeller on the front and swept wings on the sides, a stark contrast to the rigid, straight forms of the older models. Will did not know its destination or its mission, but it flew low over the train, buffeting the locomotive and rattling the windows as it went. He was not the only one who was left staring up through the glass after it.

  Not long after the plane had passed overhead, the door to the compartment slid open and a uniformed conductor swept out, walking up and down along the aisles.

  “Papers,” he called. “Papers please!”

  Will was not paying much attention. His eyes were still on the sky, hungry for another glimpse of the advanced aircraft that had cut so abruptly across his path. When the conductor reached his seat, the man tapped Will on the shoulder fairly hard to get his attention.

  “Your papers, sir?”

  With a reluctant sigh, Will turned away from the window and dug one hand into his pocket, handing the conductor his ticket.

  The man punched it with a little hole punch and handed it back to him.

  “And your residency papers, sir?”

  Silently, Will handed over his little passport booklet. The conductor opened it and frowned at it for a moment, then shrugged and handed it back to him.

  “That all seems to be in order,” he said, his tone bordering on reluctant, and handed the booklet back.

  Will went back to staring at the sky, but the conductor had not finished his rounds yet. There was a sleeping man seated directly next to Will, a middle-aged man with a shabby, weather-worn brown coat and a small crop of thinning dark hair. The conductor leaned over Will and tapped him rather impatiently on the side of the head. The sleeping man woke with a start.

  “Your papers, sir?” the conductor demanded.

  The man made an incoherent noise and rapidly produc
ed his ticket, which the conductor punched and handed back to him.

  “And your residency papers?”

  “Oh yes, my residency papers,” the brown coated man said with a smile. He reached into the pocket of his shabby jacket and his hand came up with a wad of cash, which he handed to the conductor.

  A smile broke over the conductor’s face.

  “Very good, sir. This all seems to be in order.”

  The conductor pocketed the bills and moved on to the next row.

  However, the sleeping man did not seem to have any intention of going back to sleep. Instead he stretched, yawned, and sat upright in his seat. He briefly glanced out the window, then, apparently having taken no interest in the vast swathes of scenic countryside flying past, turned to Will.

  “What brings you out into the country?” he asked conversationally. “You look like you’re from the capital. Why would you be out in the rural cantons? Visiting family?”

  “No,” Will said, shaking his head. “I live here.”

  “You do?” the man asked with surprise. “Your clothes are from the capital.”

  “I’ve been in the capital - for the past few years.”

  “Oh. Were you doing your service?”

  “No, I wasn’t called up. I was studying at the Crown Technical School.”

  “Ah... that’s a very good school. What were you studying?”

  “I was training to be a mechanic. I graduated last week. Now I’m on my way back home.”

  “Good for you, son,” the man said with a smile. “You must have been at the top of your class to study in the capital.”

  “I was... it was too bad.”

  “Too bad?”

  “Yeah. One of my friends wanted to go learn medicine, but he - I mean, I went, not him.”

  The old man shrugged. “You can’t spend your whole life worrying about things like that. When I did my service I was stationed in the capital for a month or so. I think it was the best month of my life, even though they had me on road duty. I saw a parade by the King’s Guard while I was there. It was probably one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen. The King was there - this was in King James’ time, of course... you’re too young to remember him, but he loved those parades.”