The Long War (16 page)

Maggie was all too aware that for all Sally’s self-confidence the slightest evidence of a threat from her would bring down the lightning from the
Franklin
. On the other hand Maggie needed to get a hold of this situation – and, as she thought she recognized this woman, she saw a way.

‘OK,’ she said now. ‘I’ve no intention of trying to apprehend you – umm,
Sally
. We’re not out here to be a police force. For all I know, these characters deserved whatever you dished out. However I would advise you at the least to put aside those weapons on your back. Let’s just calm tensions here. And then I suggest that you and I stroll over to that clump of woods, where the bodies are, and have a little parley. Get this situation resolved.’

Sally hesitated. Then she nodded, dumped her weapons, and the two walked towards the woods, leaving Mac and Nathan to sample a little more much-brewed coffee.

‘Of course, I know who you are,’ Maggie said quickly, seeking to put Sally off her stride.

‘You do?’

‘Sure. You’re the woman who stepped out of the
Mark Twain
with Joshua Valienté. News gets around.’ More specifically, she had cropped up in Maggie’s briefings as a well-known rogue element – and, yes, suspected vigilante – out in the Long Earth. ‘Sally Linsay, right? That’s at least one of the names you’re known by.’

Sally shrugged. ‘And I know about you, Captain Margaret Dianne Kauffman. Oh, it wasn’t hard to find out about your military career – anybody concerned about Long Earth politics knows all about the
Franklin
and its officers and the rest of the fleet and their galumphing Starfleet-type mission. Actually I’m kind of glad it was you who showed up; you’re evidently one of the less stupid of the Captain Kirks running around out here.’

‘Thanks.’

Sally eyed Maggie shrewdly. ‘Listen – since you’re here. And since you’re evidently not some military-issue psycho.’

‘Praise indeed.’

‘I do believe in serendipity. Grabbing opportunities. There’s an idea I’ve been playing with, about law-enforcement.’

‘That’s not our role, strictly speaking . . .’ Somehow Maggie was back on the defensive. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You may be less stupid than your peers, but what a dumb mission you’re engaged in. It really is like bloody
Star Trek
– a handful of ships patrolling an infinity of worlds. Look, if you want to manage the Long Earth then you have to get holistic.’

‘I’ve no idea what you’re suggesting.’

‘I’m suggesting you need an ally that’s spread as wide as the Long Earth itself.’ She looked directly at Maggie. ‘I’m talking about trolls.’

That took Maggie totally by surprise. ‘
What?
’

‘Use the trolls. Take a couple on your ship, even. Look, they are, or were, being used all over the Long Earth already, wherever people want a friendly hand. Why not the military too? They have an extensive communications system, coupled to a huge folk memory—’

‘The long call.’

‘Yes. Not to mention being somewhat physically intimidating.’

This was too much for Maggie to take in. It occurred to her that her mission had evolved a hell of a way from that tough-love speech by the President, to
this
. On the other hand maybe she
should
be making some kind of response to this business of the trolls. ‘I’ll need to think about it . . . Why would
you
want this?’

Sally shrugged. ‘I’m on the trolls’ side. How better to protect them than to have them work
with
the soldiers? Also, maybe it will help them learn to trust us again . . .’

They reached the clump of forest. Maggie followed Sally into the shade, where they found two dead trolls – the third Sally mentioned had presumably left a corpse off on some stepwise world – and a live juvenile still trying to cuddle up to one of the bodies.

‘You say you have these scientist characters stashed somewhere near by.’

‘You’ll find them. You better had, in fact, before the other trolls get here.’

‘What other trolls?’

Sally gave her a knowing look. ‘At twilight, young though it is, this orphaned cub will attempt to join in with the long call. That will summon other trolls. And when they turn up – look, trolls are comparatively merciful. More than most human parents would be. But they are protective of their cubs.’

‘Point taken.’

They began to walk back to the fire.

‘Listen,’ Sally said now, apparently on impulse. ‘There’s something else. Since I believe you have the right stuff, Captain Maggie, take a look at this.’ She rummaged under a small heap of gear, and pulled out a piece of shining tech.

It was a tube encrusted with keypads, vaguely resembling some kind of musical instrument, but technologically advanced. It was like an ocarina redesigned by Einstein, Maggie thought.

‘This is a troll-call.’

‘A what?’

‘Call it a two-way translation device for talking with trolls. I’m pretty good at it by now, I can call for help, or to signal danger. I mean, our language is nothing like theirs – this is just a prototype – and you can’t get across much more than basic concepts. But for now it’s the best we can do. With a few trolls on your ship, and one of
these
. . .’

‘How do I get hold of one?’

‘Oh, it’s not for sale,’ said Sally. ‘But I could get one for you from the manufacturer.’

‘Who
is
the manufacturer?’ asked Maggie.

Sally just smiled.

Maggie took a leap into the dark. ‘OK – get me one. That way I keep my options open. And I will consider what you’ve said.’

‘Good.’

‘How will I find you? . . . Oh. You’ll find me, right?’

‘You’re getting the hang of this.’

Any dirigible crew, when on the ground, were routinely wired up and monitored; Maggie’s officers had of course overheard every word.

Nathan Boss thought they should have apprehended Sally Linsay, or at least tried to.

And Joe Mackenzie thought she was crazy even to be thinking about taking trolls on board.

‘I don’t know, Mac. We do need new ways of working out here. I’ve learned that much in the past month. I mean, she’s right, once you are more than ten steps from the Datum, it’s like interstellar space. You can’t control the Long Earth like it was some occupied city in a war zone. Or even Datum New York. Freedom’s a mess, isn’t it? Listen, Mac – do some research for me. Find me some troll experts . . .’

T
HE
G
OLD
D
UST
and its accompanying fleet crept through the Low Earths, the last couple of dozen stepwise worlds before the Datum. The skies were pretty crowded over these relatively heavily developed worlds, and as the ships were stepped through collisions were a real threat. In the last few worlds they actually had to follow a scout on the ground, who would step forward, check out the route, and then come back when the way was clear.

But even the clutter of West 3 or 2 or 1 was as nothing compared with what they found when they finally crossed over to the Datum. They looked down on the landscapes of West 1, and then with that last step it was as if somebody had exploded a daisycutter bomb, scything away the greenery for miles around and replacing it with concrete, tarmac and steel, staining the shining river a turbid grey and penning it in with reinforced banks and bridges, all under a grubby, colourless sky. Joshua thought you couldn’t have had a better demonstration of what humanity could do to a world, given a few centuries and a lot of oil to burn.

The
Gold Dust
herself seemed diminished as she settled gingerly towards her docking apron. And the very first detail Joshua saw as he disembarked, on the wall of an old brick warehouse, was a giant portrait of President Cowley, standing there glaring with his arm held out and palm upraised, as if to say: Keep Out!

Sally, following Joshua, glared around dismissively. She was back with them, however briefly, from her latest jaunt. Long as he’d known her, Joshua still knew little of the various channels through which she kept in touch with what was going on out in the Long Earth, a vast domain which, in some sense, she seemed to feel responsible for policing. Now she said grimly, ‘Welcome home.’

The disembarked passengers were decanted into an immigration hall, a huge processing area full of snaking lines and checkpoints and screening booths, Homelands goons visored so you couldn’t see their faces, threatening instruction posters on the walls, enigmatic banners:

GENESIS 3:19

Like what he recalled of airports, Joshua saw now, this twain station had brightly signed links to other transport networks: planes, trains, buses, cabs. Transport had been one of the few big growth industries on the Datum since Step Day. To make a long-distance journey across a Low Earth, it was still generally easier to jump back to Datum Earth, catch a bus or plane, and step back once you’d reached your destination. But to access those services you had to get through immigration. Joshua checked over his little party as they waited in line. Dan, who had never had an experience like this in his life before, was confused. Helen looked stoically patient, as ever. Bill was still paralysed by his latest hangover, after his send-off by the crew of the
Gold Dust
. Sally just rolled her eyes at the endless stupidity of humanity.

And as they waited in their line a man approached them, small, intense, dressed in a black cassock, dog collar and crested hat. Dan flinched back as he drew nearer. The guy carried a Bible, and a small brass globe on a chain from which the rich scent of incense wafted. He was evidently working the waiting crowd.

Coming right up to them he pressed a leaflet into Sally’s hand. ‘In the name of the Lord, now you have returned home,
stay here
, on the Datum Earth – the one true Earth.’

Sally glared at him. ‘Why should we? Who are you?’

He said earnestly, ‘There is not a shred of evidence, either scientific or theological, that the discarnate soul can travel crossways through the worlds. Let your children die
there
, out in the wilderness, and their souls will
never
find their way to the bosom of the Lord.’ He crossed himself. ‘And as you know the Day of Judgement is approaching. Even now, on all those so-called stepwise worlds, at the heart of all those godless copies of the true America, fire and brimstone are spreading sulphurous fumes across Yellowstone—’

Sally just laughed, and told him in crisp Anglo-Saxon to go away, more forcibly than Joshua would have dared. The man shuffled off in search of easier targets.

‘Well,
he
was a bit mad,’ Bill said.

At last they reached the front of the line. Here their bags were opened and searched meticulously, and each of the party was put through a whole-body scanner. Joshua and Sally were first through. On the other side they were both issued with wristbands, brightly coloured and no doubt studded with tracker technology, that they would have to wear at all times until they left the Datum.

As they waited for the others Joshua murmured, ‘I don’t get this. All this processing and screening – all new since the last time I came back. But what’s the point? I know there are stepwise hazards for the Datum: infectious diseases, invasive species. But all these barriers – the Long Earth is an open frontier. Here we are obediently riding in on a twain and arriving at a transport hub, but we could step back
anywhere
on the Datum, with a backpack full of long-horned beetles. There’s no logic.’

Sally rolled her eyes. ‘It’s all symbolism, Joshua. You never
do
get stuff like this, do you? This is President Cowley saying to his voters, look how I’m protecting you. Look how terrible these travellers are, what a threat they are.’ She glanced at the banks of security processing gear. ‘Also there’s a lot of federal money to be earned by the companies that manufacture gear like this. Fear generates big profits.’

‘You’re very cynical.’

‘Joshua, cynicism is the only reasonable response to the antics of humanity. Especially on the Datum.’

At last Dan, Helen and Bill came through. Dan was wide-eyed and bewildered, but not actively scared, Joshua was relieved to see. Reunited, they picked up their luggage and moved through a crowded outer hall, looking for a cab rank. Joshua noticed a feature that was new since he’d last come through a place like this: small patches of the crowded sidewalks marked off by yellow hatching, reserved as stepping areas that you otherwise tried to keep clear, so as to allow an unimpeded flow-through. Only on the Datum would you need such controls; he felt an uncomfortable claustrophobia just thinking about it.

And now another man approached them, this one in a smart-looking business suit, carrying a plastic shopping bag. Evidently they weren’t to be left alone for a minute. Aged maybe thirty, this guy had thinning hair, spectacles, and a winning smile.

He stood directly in their path, so they had to stop. Joshua thought he was probably another religious nut. Then the man said, clearly and calmly, ‘Welcome to Earth, mutants.’

And he reached into his bag.

Joshua lunged forward, putting his body between the man and his family. From the corner of his eye he saw Sally pick up Dan and step away in an instant with a pop of imploding air. And the man pulled out a blade, short, heavy, wicked. In one movement he hurled it.

The knife hit Joshua above the right breast. He was thrown back, pain flooding him.

He saw Helen charge forward and ram her fist into the man’s face. She was a midwife, and strong in the upper body; he was laid flat out. Cops and other security people came running.

For Joshua, the world greyed and fell away.

‘Y
OUR WOULD-BE
killer is called Philip Mott,’ Monica Jansson said, as she poured Joshua’s coffee. ‘A junior attorney working for one of the big railroad combines. No previous record, no significant contact with the police. He’s not a phobic, as far as we know, and he’s not a home-alone – that is, never dumped by a family stepping away, a common trigger for this kind of behaviour.’