The Long War by Terry Pratchett, Stephen Baxter Page B

embrace.’
    Mac glanced up at the heavily armed twains. ‘Some embrace. That isn’t Santa’s sleigh up there. We’ll be lucky if we don’t provoke some kind of shooting war.’
    ‘It won’t come to that.’
    ‘Well, however it turns out you can’t beat being given a mission to fulfil.’
    ‘Ain’t that the truth,’ said Maggie.
    Of course, once they were actually out in the Long Earth, they had encountered much wariness about their mission.
    Many Long Earth pioneers, at least the first generation, had left the Datum precisely because they had been intensely suspicious of central government, deriving from a country in which from its founding that sentiment had always run deep. What could the Datum government offer a far-stepwise colony now? It could threaten to tax, but provided damn few services – and over the years had withdrawn what little it had once offered. Protection? The major problem with that argument was that there was no detectable adversary, no bad guys to spy on or shadow, no bogeymen to point to as hostiles. China was still reeling from its own post-Step Day revolution. The parallel Europes were filling up with peaceful farmers. A new generation of Africans were reclaiming their ravaged continent, or stepwise copies of it. And so on. There was no threat to counter.
    However weak the case, Maggie Kauffman knew she was expected to diplomatically remind these estranged colonial sheep that they were part of a bigger flock, because back in DC there was a profound sense that, under the American Aegis, this newly extended country was fragmenting – and that , it was instinctively felt, couldn’t be allowed. That had been true even before the provocative ‘Declaration of Independence’ that had come out of Valhalla.
    All that was for the future. Right now Maggie found the present hard enough to manage: a horrible ethical and legal knot for her raw crew to untangle, in a ship still being shaken down, that they’d encountered just weeks after Cowley’s send-off.

15
    T HE OFFICE OF the mayor of Four Waters City was predictable pioneering architecture, though a veritable mansion compared with anything that Daniel Boone would have known, Maggie thought. However, he would have recognized and approved of the drying pelts, the jars of pickles in the corner, the miscellaneous shovels and other gardening implements – all the detritus of a pioneering life busily being lived. And there was a basement, which suggested that the mayor and her family were thoughtful people, and perhaps mildly paranoid (or sensibly cautious): it was impossible for an intruder to step into an underground room—
    ‘The child,’ Robinson blurted. ‘Let’s get to it, Captain.’
    ‘Fine.’ Maggie sat down.
    ‘Her name is Angela Hartmann. It happened a week ago. She was found by her family, stoned out of her mind . . . Sorry. She wouldn’t wake up, she was in a kind of coma, took days to come out of it. We know who did it, who gave her the drugs and got high with her. And we know who committed the murder.’
    What murder? ‘Where are these people now?’
    The mayor shrugged. ‘It never dawned on us before to build a jail. We were building a stone ice house for the winter. We used that. It’s pretty well made. I don’t think anyone could possibly get out of it, it’s real big and heavy.’
    ‘And this is where you put the guy who gave the kid the drugs?’
    Robinson glanced at her. ‘I’m sorry. You’ve misunderstood, I’ve not been clear, I kind of gabble stuff out when I’m nervous. That bastard isn’t in the ice house. That bastard’s in the mortuary. Such as it is. The guy we’re keeping in the ice house – he was the father of the little girl.’
    ‘Ah. So the father found the pusher—’
    ‘And killed him.’
    ‘OK.’ Maggie began to see it. ‘Two crimes: the drugs, the murder.’
    ‘Nobody’s denying any of this. But as a result of all this, we are – riven. About how to handle this. What to do