Read Online The Long War by Terry Pratchett, Stephen Baxter - Free Book Online

his hand. Thomas dived in to help with their bags.
    Getting their bearings, some of them a little woozy from the step-nausea medication, they stood on a concrete apron under the swollen hull of the airship: Joshua, Helen, Dan and Bill Chambers, with their baggage accumulating at their feet. They and the other disembarking passengers were lost in the expanse of this apron, Joshua thought.
    And beyond sprawled the city of Valhalla itself, clusters of heavy buildings under a blue sky faintly tinged with smog, with a din of traffic, and construction engines clanking and roaring. The air was warm, warmer than at Hell-Knows-Where. But still, behind the hot tar and oil aroma of this brand-new city, Joshua could smell the salt of the nearby inland American Sea, just as he remembered from his first visit to these worlds ten years ago.
    A huge form swept over their heads, with a drone of engines and a wash of displaced air: a twain, a big one, a freight vessel heading for the transit routes to the Low Earths and the Datum. Valhalla’s principal function was as a transport nexus, one terminus of the river of airship traffic that flowed endlessly across more than a million Earths to the Datum and back again, carrying freight and passengers. And it was no coincidence that Valhalla had grown up on a location that in most stepwise Americas lay close to what in Datum terms was the Mississippi: the twains took you across the worlds, while the river could carry your goods across a world.
    Daniel Rodney Valienté, eight years old, had never seen ships of such a size, and he jumped up and down, thrilled. ‘Are we going to ride in one of those things, Dad?’
    ‘In a little while, son . . .’
    ‘And here comes Sally Linsay,’ Helen said. ‘Surprise, surprise.’
    ‘Give her a break,’ Joshua murmured to Helen. ‘I did arrange to meet her here.’
    Sally was wearing her usual pioneer-type gear, her signature fisherman’s jacket with the thousand pockets, and she carried a light leather pack. ‘What a racket,’ she said as she walked up, theatrically clamping her hands over her ears. ‘Noise, everywhere you go. We ought to call ourselves Homo clamorans . Noisemaking Man.’
    Helen just looked at her, unsmiling. ‘Travelling with us, are you? The great wanderer hitching a ride on a commercial twain?’
    ‘Well, we’re all going the same way. Why not get reacquainted? We can swap recipes for ice cream.’
    Joshua grabbed his wife’s arm in case she felt like throwing a punch. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
    As he watched this byplay Thomas’s grin was becoming a little more fixed. ‘Ri-ight. I’m sensing a little tension here.’
    Bill murmured, ‘It’s complicated. Don’t ask.’
    Sally snapped, ‘Who’s this character?’
    ‘He’s called Thomas Kyangu,’ Joshua said. ‘An old friend of mine.’
    ‘You don’t know me, Ms. Linsay, but I know of you, through Joshua.’
    ‘Oh, God, a fan-boy.’
    Helen stepped forward. ‘And we still haven’t been properly introduced, Mr. Kyangu. My name’s Helen Valienté, née Green—’
    ‘The wife. Of course.’ Thomas shook her hand.
    ‘“The wife”?’ Sally laughed.
    ‘You have all your bags? I have a buggy just over there. Joshua sent a message ahead; I booked you all a hotel in Downtown Four . . .’ As they walked over the apron, through a dispersing crowd of passengers, Thomas said, ‘You can’t blame a Valhallan for following Joshua’s exploits, Ms. Linsay.’
    ‘He’s a married man,’ Helen said sternly. ‘There’ll be no more “exploits” if I have anything to do with it.’
    ‘Yes, but he did discover this Valhallan Belt itself, during The Journey. A band of North Americas with generous inland oceans, ripe for colonization.’
    ‘“Discover”?’ Sally snapped back. ‘ I was there already, as I recall.’
    They reached Thomas’s buggy, a low, open electric-engine vehicle with eight plastic seats. ‘Please, jump in . . .’ The cart