The Long War

“I am fully equipped to support your current activity. The systems analysis, I mean. Turbine number two is developing metal fatigue. Also the flush in the aft crew bathroom is malfunctioning. Rodent infestation is negligible but not zero, by the way.”

Maggie stared at the cat. Then she came around her desk, grabbed the cat, and set her on the desktop. The beast was heavier than she had thought, but she felt comfortably warm.

She thought over what the cat had said. Then she slapped a comms panel. “Hey, Harry.”

“Here, Captain,” the engineer replied promptly.

“How’s the rear crew head?”

“What?… Umm, let me check my roster. A faulty flush, as it happens. Why do you ask, Captain?”

“How about turbine number two?”

“No faults reported.”

“Would you check it over again? Call me back.” She stared at the cat. “So—what the hell are you?”

“An artificial life form. Well, evidently. Including top-of-the-line artificial intelligence. The nice thing about artificial intelligence is that at least it’s better than artificial stupidity. Don’t you think? Ha, ha.” Her voice was fully human, but diminished, as if issuing from a small loudspeaker.

Maggie stayed stony-faced. “That couple, Dr. and Mrs. Abrahams, left you behind.”

“I am another gift, Captain. Forgive the subterfuge. It was thought that you would refuse me reflexively. Yet I am capable of supporting your mission in a variety of ways. A mission to which I am fully committed, by the way.”

“You have a name?”

“Shi-mi. Which is Tibetan for cat. I am an upgrade of previous models…”

Maggie’s comms unit blipped: Harry Ryan. “Don’t know how you guessed it, Captain, but there is a flaw in number two turbine. Metal fatigue in the bearings. We’ll need to strip it down within seven weeks max—best to do that in dry dock. It’s a very fine imbalance; it wouldn’t have shown up for a few more days’ running, but there is a rising chance of failure. Captain, I’m embarrassed we didn’t spot it.”

“Forget it, Harry. Ask Nathan to put together an itinerary to take us home.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Shi-mi said modestly, “The turbine didn’t sound true. Easy to spot. It was however only one cat’s opinion.”

“But you’re not just a cat, are you?”

“No, Captain. I was built to the finest standard specifications of the Black Corporation’s robotics, prosthetics and artificial intelligence divisions. Whereas your turbine was built for the government on a low-bid contract. Thank you very much, and I hope I have passed the audition. Incidentally—would you be offended if I brought you an occasional mouse? It is rather traditional…”

“No.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“And stay out of Joe Mackenzie’s way.”

“Yes, Captain. Does that mean I can stay aboard?”

“Just get out of here.”

“Yes, Captain.”

43

Lobsang pulled strings at the Black Corporation and secured Joshua and Bill the use of an airship, for the purposes of their quest in search of Sally Linsay, and the trolls. It was a relatively small, nimble craft, with a translucent solar-capture envelope a couple of hundred feet long, and a gondola the size of a truck trailer, with walls of ceramic panels and big viewing windows. Primarily used as a scout to accompany the great stepwise convoys on the Valhalla run, the ship had no name, only a corporate registration number. Bill promptly named it the Shillelagh.

Bill, for reasons he’d yet to share with Joshua, said he wanted to fly, not out of the usual Mississippi ports, but from the Seattle area in the Pacific north-west. The quickest way to transport the airship from its base at a Low Earth Hannibal to Seattle was to break it down, ship it by rail across the Datum, and then reassemble it on an apron at SeaTac airport. That took a week. The travellers used the time to prepare, to gather supplies and kit for the journey.

Regarding the trolls, Lobsang provided them with what he called a “troll translation kit’, downloaded into a neat jet-black slab, small enough to fit into a backpack.

As for Sally, Joshua did some snooping as Bill had requested, visited the hotels she’d stayed at, even Jansson’s home, looking fruitlessly for leads as to where she’d gone.

And he had to face the family he was leaving behind, as he disappeared on yet another jaunt into the remote Earths—once again leaving at Lobsang’s behest, once again pulled sideways by Sally, Helen’s enigmatic rival. Little Dan was jealous, pure and simple; he wanted to go exploring too. Helen, who was struggling to get permission to visit her Madison-bomber brother in prison, was ominously silent. It wasn’t a happy family that Joshua left behind, and not for the first time, and it tore his heart in two.

But off he went anyhow.

And on an impulse he took the sapphire ring, his one souvenir of his first Long Earth quest a decade ago: took it from where it had been hanging on Jansson’s wall, and hung it up in the gondola lounge. He wondered if Sally would expect him to do that.