The Long War

12

THEY SPENT THREE more weeks in Valhalla, trying to get Dan used to the place, and to the idea of coming here to school – even though headmaster Jacques Montecute and the taciturn Roberta had in the meantime left for the Datum, to join the Chinese expedition. Helen had plenty of time to sample the local cuisine, including lots more coffee – enough to establish that, whatever Valhalla was good at, coffee wasn’t it.

But that was remedied once they boarded the Gold Dust. In the first twenty-four hours Helen spent most of her time relaxing, sitting in the family’s saloon, sipping the finest coffee she’d drunk since – well, since the last time her father had taken her to a Datum Madison mom-and-pop local coffee shop aged about twelve, before they left the old world behind for good.

That was the Gold Dust for you. It was like the best hotel in all the worlds, she thought, uprooted and drifting in the sky, an eight-hundred-foot-long envelope from which hung a gondola of polished High-Megger hardwood, like one vast piece of furniture. Helen had felt embarrassed just to climb aboard. Even the gangplank was carpeted, and you could have lost their whole Hell-Knows-Where house in the reception hall.

Of course they were honoured guests, Joshua, Dan, Helen, even Bill Chambers – and Sally Linsay, who Helen noticed wasn’t too high-minded to hitch a ride aboard this flying palace. Honoured because of Joshua, of course, the hero explorer. If he wished, the Joshua Valienté could dine out on his legend, but he hardly ever did. Full of contradictions, her Joshua. But when he got offered such treats as this ride in the Gold Dust, he’d learned not to turn them away – that was how Helen had trained him anyhow.

Dan was in his element, of course. He’d wanted to be a twain driver since he could walk, and would run after even the scrubby little local ships that drifted over Hell-Knows-Where. Helen had thought his eyes would pop out when they walked aboard the Gold Dust.

But there was some concern for him, at the beginning. This was Dan’s first long-distance haul. Helen was not a natural stepper, while Joshua was the world’s model natural stepper. Just as his colouring was mixed – Dan had his father’s dark hair but his mother’s paler complexion – as a stepper Dan was somewhere in between his parents. And in his genetic background he did have a phobic uncle, Helen’s brother Rod, who couldn’t step at all. The medicinal treatments for controlling the symptoms of stepping nausea were advanced now, so that almost everybody could withstand even a high-speed journey like this – almost all, but not quite all. If Dan had shown any distress, it would have been the end of the journey for his parents (well, for Helen anyhow; she had no doubt Joshua would have gone on with Sally) – and the end of a dream for Dan. Joshua and Helen were both privately relieved when the ship’s surgeon, who had been hovering over the passengers as the twain set off, gave them a discreet thumbs-up.

After that the crew made a huge fuss of Dan. At Helen’s insistence he was to be accompanied at all times by either one of his parents or a junior crewman, appointed by the Captain. The crewman told Dan his name was Bosun Higgs, and Helen didn’t believe that for a second. But apart from that the crew gave Dan the run of the ship, from the ladders and gantries inside the envelope itself with its huge sacs of helium, to the gondola’s cargo hold and engine room, and the staterooms and restaurant cum ballroom – even the wheelhouse, a huge transparent-walled blister at the prow, where you could watch the great ships rising from world after world to join the fleet as it ploughed East towards the Datum, with views of the American Sea and its forest-coated fringe shivering by, a new world with every heartbeat. An incredible, thrilling sight, even to a sedentary type like Helen.

On the second evening of the voyage the grown-ups had a treat, when they dined at the Captain’s table. What else would you expect, for the Valienté family? The restaurant was at the prow, just beneath the wheelhouse itself. Helen couldn’t believe how ornate the place was, with white wooden filigree work everywhere, and gilt mammoth tusks and oversized acorns hanging in the corners, and what looked like original oil paintings of various Long Earth scenes hanging on the walls, and armchairs and carpets soft as puppy fur – even a chandelier hanging over the table. All of which was a pleasant distraction from their fellow diners, who were generally the obnoxiously rich: Long Earth traders splashing the profits, or tourists from the Datum on the ‘cruise of a lifetime’, who mistook Helen and Joshua for staff more than once.

The view outside was the main attraction. From the Captain’s table right up by the forward window you could see the worlds flash by below, and the gleaming hulls of the companion ships of the fleet, dozens of them hanging like Chinese lanterns under the changing sky. They had already travelled a long way – at its top speed of a step a second, the twain could cover the best part of ninety thousand worlds a day – but they would be slower than that on average, and it would take some weeks to reach the Datum. As the evening gathered in, most of the landscapes that washed beneath the ship’s prow were dark, largely uninhabited – though one sparkled with town lights, and the Captain told them that this was Amerika, the new Dutch nation, one whole copy of the footprint of the United States given by the federal government. The Long Earth hadn’t been much use to the Dutch at first, since on all the stepwise worlds the landscapes they had spent centuries carefully preserving from the sea were still drowned . . .

The climax of the show – the Captain had timed the meal so they could witness the specific moment, just as the dessert trolley reached their table, and just as the setting sun touched the horizon – came when the great American Sea, the inland ocean whose footprint had been their constant companion since they left Valhalla, melted away, first crumbling into scattered lakes, then submitting to a forest cover that stretched as far as the eye could see, dark green-black in the light of the setting sun. Helen’s heart ached a bit when they lost contact with their sea, or at least its footprint.

But as the light faded further they began to see what had taken its place, below the prow: a river, wide and placid, a shining ribbon cutting across the land. It was the Mississippi, or a remote cousin of that great river on the Datum, a constant in most Americas – indeed Hell-Knows-Where stood on the banks of one stepwise copy. The river would be an unfailing companion for the rest of the trip.

They had a hell of a time getting Dan to sleep after that. Helen blamed the dessert: too much chocolate. Joshua, meanwhile, went off to find Bill, who’d spent his own raucous night with the crew.