The Long War

Sally said, “We’re second-guessing the motivation of non-human sapients. We weren’t expecting them to treat you like this. Maybe this is what passes for diplomacy, among beagles. Just attack the ambassador when he shows up. However the staple is our technology, after all. Humans invented this stuff to control other humans.”

Joshua grunted, “So I’m learning a moral lesson. But somebody brought it here, right? And somebody had to show these dogs—”

“Beagles,” Sally said.

“How to manufacture the iron components.”

“That would-ss be me. Hell-llo, pathless-ss one…”

Joshua looked around, more carefully, systematically. There was a row of dogs—beagles?—standing as if to attention over one of their number lying on a kind of scrap of lawn, green growing grass, like a carpet. Sally was standing before him, Jansson and Bill sitting on the floor, against one wall. And, in another corner, with a dog guard hovering over him—

“Finn McCool. I’ve seen you looking better.”

The kobold had evidently been worked over. He could barely sit up straight. His sunglasses were gone. One eye was closed, bruises showed down one side of his bare torso, and one of his ears had been bitten off; Joshua could see the marks of teeth, a crude stitching. Still, McCool grinned. “It was all busines-ss. We told the beagles-ss of you, pathless-ss ones. Your ships flicker in the ss-ky of this world. You would notice beagles-ss soon. We told them, be ready. We taught them how to ss-taple the ss-teppers. We got good price-ss.”

“Did you have this done to me?”

The kobold managed to laugh. “Not me. But I would hav-ve, pathless-ss one.”

Bill Chambers snarled. “Pogue mahone, gobshite.”

Joshua said, “So what the hell happened to you, McCool? Contractual dispute, was it?”

“Or-hrrders again,” came another voice, canine, but with a more liquid quality than the rest. Female. “My or-hhrders. Always my orders…”

Joshua turned to the group of dogs by the podium. He recognized the tall warrior—Snowy. He still had that ray gun dangling from his Batman-type utility belt, like a prop from one of Lobsang’s old 1950s sci-fi movies, alongside crude blades of metal and stone. He stood at ease, but with an air of constant, competent alertness.

He was watching over another, a female, the one who lounged, very dog-like, on the grass. It was she who had spoken about orders.

Sally was studying Joshua with some sympathy, leavened by amusement at his probably obvious disorientation. “Classic Long Earth set-up, isn’t it, Joshua? A mash-up of three disparate sapient species—four if you count the Rectangles builders, off-stage—nurtured on separate Earths and now all mixed up together like this.” She nodded at the reclining female dog. “Joshua, meet Petra. Granddaughter, ruler of this city—this Den, whatever—which is called the Eye of the Hunter.”

“Granddaughter?”

“Two down in the hierarchy from the Mother, I think. The big boss of this doggy nation is the Mother, then you get Daughters, Granddaughters—”

“Petra?”

“A human nickname, apparently. You’d probably ruin your epiglottis if you tried for their true names. Not that we mere humans are told them anyhow.”

“We’re not the first to pass through here, then.”

“Evidently not. Those damn combers get everywhere, don’t they?… Now pay attention. Petra’s in charge, and she knows it.”

Joshua faced Petra. “It was your orders to staple me?”

“Let me make it plain, Josh-shua. What is it we each-shh wann-t? You, the tr-hrrollss. Yes? Make peace.”

“That’s why I came here.”

“Me too,” Sally said.

“Ve-hrry good. But I care not for you, or tr-hrrolls. Though t-hrroll music pleases. I care for these.” And she plucked the ray gun from Snowy’s belt, hefted it in her graceful fingers, pointed it straight at Joshua’s head—and pulled what was obviously the trigger.

He didn’t flinch, though from the corner of his eye he saw Jansson and Bill shrink back. Of course nothing happened. It wasn’t the moment in the game for him to die, though he suspected that would come later.

The Granddaughter said, “Weapons. Come from him.” She gestured at the cringing, grinning kobold. “Where from? From scentless wo-hhrlds.”

Sally murmured, “She means, stepwise. These canine conquerors can’t step. Which is why they needed to staple you.”

“Weapons make Eye of Hunter-rhh strong Den. Stronger than foe dens.”

Granddaughter, Joshua thought blearily. Dogs had big litters. This granddaughter of the queen must have a lot of rivals.

Sally said, “Joshua, you need to understand. As far as I can make out these canines don’t care about us, or about stepping, the parallel worlds. All they care about is their own wars, their own agendas, their conflicts. We’re just a means to an end.”

“We’d be the same, probably.”

“Right. And all they really want, right now, is weapons to fight their wars.”

“The ray guns?”