The Long War

‘And we all know the consequences of that.’ He waved a hand at the mute buildings around the park, the boarded-up high-rises, and there was a growl of agreement from sections of the crowd. ‘We are poorer, we who remained in our homes to care for our families, to do our duty. We are poorer, we who were left behind. Not only that, suddenly our secure world was opened up to threats – new kinds of threats, pan-dimensional threats we never faced the like of before.’

The screen behind him filled up with images, a kaleidoscope of horrors, from notorious would-be assassins, terrorists, rapists, child abductors and murderers who’d quickly learned to exploit the destructive potential of stepping, to a gaggle of grubby High Meggers bandits who looked as though they’d stepped out of a spaghetti western, to some of the existential weirdness that had come down the turnpike from the strange new worlds: of distorted-looking humanoids wearing mockeries of human clothing – and Mary, the gentle-eyed yet murderous troll, a picture that brought boos from the crowd.

‘That is why I, as your commander in chief, have assembled a new force from across our fine armed services to deal with these new situations. It is called USLONGCOM, as an analogy with our nation’s other geographical commands. Many of its members are gathered here today, in the historic heart of Richmond, Virginia. And many thousands more are in training at sites around the world, and indeed in the nearby stepwise neighbourhood. Let’s show them our appreciation.’

He led applause, which rippled around the watching crowd.

‘And today,’ Cowley boomed on, ‘I announce their first significant mission: Operation Prodigal Son.’ More scattered applause, a little puzzled. ‘I’m sure the name I chose is self-explanatory. This is a mission, not to oppose any foe, but to reach out to our own lost children. A demonstration not of military power but of the firm hand of strong parenting. In these six fine new aircraft, companies of our young warriors will set out across the worlds, heading West – and showing their strength to the “colonies”,’ and he emphasized the quotes with crooks of his fingers.

There were a few whoops at that, and cries of ‘Kick butt!’ and ‘Turn Valhalla into a twain park!’

Cowley held up his hands. ‘Let me emphasize again. This is not

a punitive mission. Indeed, my administration has nothing but support for those entrepreneurs who are busily developing the economies of the so-called Low Earths, as contributions to the overall national good. Our argument is not with them. Our argument is with those who live further out, some living entirely unproductive and feckless lives – who are prepared to accept the protection of life in the American Aegis, and yet contribute nothing to its upkeep.’ More applause and whoops.

Now Cowley held up a bit of paper. ‘I have here their so-called “Declaration of Independence”. Nothing but a mockery of this nation’s finest hour.’ Theatrically he ripped up the paper, to more cheers. ‘This operation will reach a climax when its overall commander, Admiral Davidson here, stands on the steps of the city hall at the rebel enclave of Valhalla, and welcomes those particular prodigals back into the bosom of the national family. America has scattered across the worlds. Now is the time to gather those lost flocks back together again. Time to pick up the pieces, and grow strong again, in unity,’ and he gestured up at the slogan over his head.

Now he turned to the troops ranked before him. ‘And to fulfil this holy mission, I turn to these fine young people. Isaiah six, verse eight: Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me. Who shall I send on Operation Prodigal Son? Who will go for us?’

They had been coached to respond: ‘I’ll go. Send me! Send me!’ The discipline of the ranks softened a little, as the sailors and marines whooped and yelled.

Beside Maggie, Joe Mackenzie grunted in grudging appreciation. ‘Cowley may be a slimeball, but he is still the President.’

‘And he’s supple, Doc,’ Maggie murmured. ‘Here he is pleasing one constituency by appearing to take on the colonists, while appeasing the colonists by presenting our mission as a kind of embrace.’

Mac glanced up at the heavily armed twains. ‘Some embrace. That isn’t Santa’s sleigh up there. We’ll be lucky if we don’t provoke some kind of shooting war.’

‘It won’t come to that.’

‘Well, however it turns out you can’t beat being given a mission to fulfil.’

‘Ain’t that the truth,’ said Maggie.

Of course, once they were actually out in the Long Earth, they had encountered much wariness about their mission.