The Long War

‘It may be surprising to a layman that there are any sedentary Long Earth humanoids who have been shaped over evolutionary timescales by contact with humans. This can only come about, of course, if that species returned to Datum Earth and then lost its stepping ability. Well, there is one Datum species that may fit this category, though the genetic evidence is controversial: the bonobo chimps. In retrospect, who could ever have imagined that these gentle creatures belong on the same planet as the likes of us? Not to mention their cousins the common chimps, who are almost as unpleasant as we are. No wonder the bonobos’ ancestors got out of here as soon as they could steal a car. And bad luck for the present-day bonobos that their more recent ancestors came wandering back.

‘Is that enough, Jocasta? Then perhaps you could tell the long-haired kobold lookalike in the production booth that eating a burger all the way through my interview was even more off-putting than you might expect . . .’

45

‘YOU HAVE MORE Kinks-ss?’

‘Some,’ whispered Bill through the radio.

‘Give.’

‘No.’

‘What is your name?’ Joshua asked at last.

The kobold grinned. At least, his teeth grinned. ‘My name to menn is Finn McCool.’

‘I thought of that,’ Bill said. ‘Seemed to fit.’

‘I give no name for menn. Not my name.’

‘Finn McCool will do,’ Joshua said.

‘People of the pathless-ss world stranger than trollen,’ Finn McCool said, studying Joshua and his bits of kit. ‘How live? No weaponn?’

‘Oh, I have a weapon.’

‘But one only. You are pathless-ss. We are many.’

‘Many? Where? Where are the rest of you?’

The kobold held out his hand. ‘You give. This-ss the way, as all know. You give, I talk.’

‘Ignore him,’ Bill said. ‘We’ve given already. He’s just trying to drive a hard bargain.’

Joshua studied the kobold. ‘You trade, right? You trade with other humans?’

‘Other humans-ss. And with other, not-humann, not kobold-ss . . .’

‘With other types of humanoid? Other races?’

‘And they trade with others-ss. Others-ss, ff-rom far world-ss.’

‘How far?’

‘Worlds-ss where there iss no moon. S-ssun different colour . . .’

‘Horse shit,’ said Bill. ‘No such worlds. He’s just trying to wheedle more out of you, Joshua. Aren’t you, Finn McCool? You can’t shit a shitter, you little shit. Listen, Joshua, you have to understand what we’re dealing with here. These are slippery little buggers. They get around quick, they seem to be able to use soft places, they talk all the time, and they trade, with us and each other. But they’re not human. They don’t do business the way we do, grubbing for wealth, making as much profit as we can. They’re more like—’

‘Collectors?’

‘Something like that, yeah. Like nerds who collect comic books. Or like magpies, fascinated by human stuff, shiny gewgaws that they can steal and stare at but they never understand. There’s no logic to it, Joshua. It’s just about the stuff they want, that’s all. Once you understand that they’re not hard to handle. Big fecking ugly magpies with trousers on. That’s you, Finn McCool.’

The kobold just grinned.

‘Well, I guess you know why we’re here, Finn McCool,’ Joshua said. ‘What we want. Where are the trolls?’

‘You give—’

‘Cough up, you little gobshite,’ Bill snapped.

Finn McCool hissed, and said grudgingly, ‘Trollen in here. But not here.’

Joshua sighed. ‘Textbook enigmatic. Any time you want to jump in, Bill—’

‘Finn McCool. Are you saying the trolls are hiding out in a Joker?’

‘Not here.’

‘A Joker, but not this Joker. As I guessed. But which one?’

Finn McCool seemed to Joshua to have no intention of answering.

‘That’s it?’ Joshua said. ‘That’s all we get out of you in return for that magnificent, umm, old tape?’

Suddenly McCool stood straight. He sniffed the air with his flat, chimp-like muzzle, and laughed.

‘Joshua,’ Bill said urgently. ‘I detect nine, correction ten – no, eleven hotspots converging on you. I now have visual confirmation. Hmm.’

Joshua spun around. A morning mist swirled now between the trees, and the stream was lost to view. Anything could be out there. Water dripped off the leaves of the trees. ‘What do you mean, hmm? What do they look like?’

‘Well . . . Purposeful.’

There was a flash of teeth, Finn McCool faded for an instant, and was gone. Joshua could have been wrong, but it seemed that McCool’s grin was the last bit of him to go.

And out of the mists . . .

The rising sun sent spears of reddish light across the grassland, and the altitude of this summit lent a faint chill to the breeze. A few shreds of mist stirred down among the trees that marked the stream.

And there were shapes among the trees.

They began as mere suggestions of motion in the mist, and then solidified. The general effect was of a wheel slowing from turbine speeds to stillness. When they were still—