Wheelworld

by Harry Harrison

  “Tired, Otakar?” he asked.

  “A little. A night’s sleep will help.”

  “But tomorrow will be a long day, and every day after that. Even if we spell each other at the wheel, it’s going to be hard because we won’t be able to rest, not just changing places between driver and co-driver.” Jan had the beginnings of an idea and he worked at it. “What we need are more co-drivers. For this engine and all the others. That way we could have an experienced driver at the wheel all the time and the one off duty can get his eyes shut.”

  “There aren’t any other drivers.”

  “I know that, but we could train some as we go.”

  Otakar grunted and shook his head. “No way. Every man with a trace of technical ability is already on a job. Or like your ex-mechanic Decio—who is back on the farm where he belongs. I don’t want any farmers in the driving compartment.”

  “You’re right—but only half right. What about training some women as drivers?” Jan smiled as Otakar’s jaw dropped.

  “But … women don’t drive. Women are just women.”

  “Only in this outpost of hell, my boy. Even on Earth the exams are strictly competitive and workers rise as high as their ability allows, irrespective of their sex. It makes sound economic sense. I see no reason why the same thing can’t be done here. Find the girls with ability and train them for the job.”

  “The Hradil is not going to like this, or any of the Family Heads.”

  “Of course not—and what difference does it make? This is an emergency and we need emergency measures.” Mention of The Hradil brought a sweeter name to mind from the same family. He smiled at the thought. “Have you ever noticed the embroidery that Alzbeta Mahrova does?”

  “I have a piece, traded it from the family.”

  “Well that takes patience, skill, concentration—”

  “All the traits of a successful driver!” Otakar was smiling now too. “This mad idea may work. It will sure make life a bit brighter during the drive.”

  “I’m for that,” Hyzo’s voice called out from the speaker; he had been listening on the intercom to the conversation. “Wouldn’t like to have me train a radio operator or two?”

  “You might very well. Later. Right now we want to put together a list of the women we know who might have ability in this direction. But don’t say a word outside of this compartment. I want to hit the Elders with this later, when they are tired and off-balance.”

  Night fell before they reached the break in the Road. They were climbing again and the rock wall rose up on their right, while to the left the Road ended only in blackness. Jan slowed the speed of the trains gradually as a blip appeared on the nose radar. When he caught a glimpse of metal ahead on the Road he cut the high beams of his lights and sent out the stop signal.

  “Begin braking now.”

  As his own train slowed he knew that, stretching far back into the night, the long column of trains was also reducing speed continually. As they slowed to a complete stop Otakar entered the time in his log, then began shutting down the engine for standby. Jan rose and stretched. He was tired—but knew the night’s work was just beginning.

  “Nine hundred and eighty-seven kilometers today,” Otakar said, entering the figure in the log.

  “That’s fine.” Jan massaged the tired muscles in his legs. “That leaves us only something like twenty-six thousand more to go.”

  “The longest journey begins with but a single turn of the wheel,” Eino said, popping up from the engine room hatch.

  “You can just keep your folk philosophy to yourself. Shut down the engine, put all systems on standby and start pulling that brake valve from car seven. By the time you get it out I’ll bring you a replacement. And check the filter as well.”

  Jan cracked the exit door and a wave of hot, moist air washed over him. The engines and the cars were completely air conditioned, and he had forgotten how much further south they were. He could feel the sweat already dampening his skin as he climbed down the rungs. Very soon now they would have to use the cold-suits when they went outside the trains. He walked the hundred meters toward the ragged cliff that marked the end of the road. Bright lights illuminated the work area, and the roar and grind of the tanks echoed from the rocky wall, punctuated by the continuous explosions of the fusion guns. The flaming mouths of the tank-mounted units had already carved a niche into the sheer rock wall to span the gap of missing Road. Now they were working to deepen and widen it to permit the trains to pass. Jan didn’t interfere, they were doing fine without him. And he had business with the Family Elders.

  They met in the lead car of the Taekeng family, the largest available compartment. This family, the most conservative and inbred, still kept many of its customs from distant Earth. There were silk hangings on the walls, scenes of water and birds and other strange animals, as well as sentences in an alphabet none of them could read. They were also the most group-social family, so they did not have their living cars broken up into the many small compartments the others preferred. The normal occupants of the room had been dispossessed for the moment, but they did not seem to mind. They were gathered in the Road outside the car, calling excitedly to each other about the work ahead, the stars overhead, the strange smells from the jungle below. Children ran about and were called back with great excitement when they ventured too near the precipice. A baby wailed in the darkness, then smacked contentedly as it was put to the breast. Jan picked his way through the people and entered the car.

  Though he had called the meeting they had started without him. That was obvious. Hein Ritterspach stood before the Family Heads, but he stopped talking as Jan entered. He gave one look of intense hatred before he turned his back, holding the cast on his arm before him like a shield. Jan took one look at the circle of stony faces and knew perfectly well what Hein was trying to do. But it wouldn’t work. He went slowly to an empty chair and dropped into it.

  “As soon as Ritterspach leaves, this meeting can begin,” he said.

  “No,” Chun Taekeng broke in. “He has some grave charges that must be heard. He has said—”

  “I don’t care what he said. If you wish to hold a meeting of Family Heads to listen to him, you may do it any time you choose. Tonight if you wish. After our business is finished. I have called this meeting as Trainmaster and we have urgent matters to discuss.”

  “You can’t throw me out!” Hein shouted. “As Proctor Captain I have a right to attend.”

  Jan sprang to his feet and put his face close to the other’s ruddy one. “You have the right to leave, nothing else, that is an order.”

  “You cannot order me, you attacked me, there are charges …”

  “You drew a gun on me, Hein, and I defended myself. There are witnesses. I will prefer charges when we reach Southtown. If you insist on bothering me now I shall arrest you now, for endangering the safety of the train, and I shall imprison you. Now go.”

  Hein’s eyes swept the room, looking for some evidence of aid. Chun opened his mouth—then shut it. The Hradil sat as unmoving and expressionless as a snake. There was only silence. Hein choked out a sound and stumbled to the door, fumbling at the handle with his left hand, then vanished into the night.

  “Justice will be done in Southtown,” The Hradil said.

  “It will be done,” Jan answered, his voice as expressionless as hers. “After the trip. Now, are there any troubles I should know about?”

  “There are complaints,” Ivan Semenov said.

  “I don’t want to hear them. Morale, complaints, food, personal problems, all of these will be handled by the Family Heads. I mean mechanical problems; air, power, anything like that?”

  He looked from face to face, but there was no response. It had to continue this way. He had to keep them off balance, unable to adjust completely to this new mode of life.

  “Good. I knew I could rely upon you all to make things smoother for the technical crew. There are other ways in which you can help. As you know, we sha
ll be driving for twice the normal amount each day. This is only the first day, so fatigue is not showing yet. But it will. The drivers will be working double time, so will soon be twice as tired as normal. We may have accidents which we cannot afford. Unless we train more drivers as we go.”

  “Why do you bother us with this?” Chun Taekeng asked abrasively. “This is a technical matter about which you boast great proficiency. With no farming to be done, there are plenty of men to choose from, so choose who you will.”

  “Begging your pardon, but I would not trust any of your horny handed field workers near my machinery. Every man with any technical skills or abilities is now working or training.”

  “If you have them all, why do you come to us?” The Hradil asked.

  “I said men. My drivers tell me that they know many women with the skills and reflexes we need. They could be trained … .”

  “Never!” The Hradil exploded the word, her eyes narrowed to slits buried in a webwork of ancient wrinkles. Jan turned to face her, the closest he had ever been before, and realized that her cap of snowy hair was really a wig. So she had vanity. Perhaps that knowledge could be turned to some good use.

  “Why not?” he asked quietly.

  “Why? You dare ask? Because a woman’s place is in the home. With her children, the family, that is the way it always has been done before.”

  “Well that’s not the way it will be done in the future. The ships always come. They did not come. The ships take the corn. We are carrying the corn south. The ships bring the seed and supplies we need. There is no seed or supplies. Women do not do technical work. They do now. My co-driver tells me that Alzbeta Mahrova, of your family, does skilled and delicate embroidery. He feels a woman with those talents could be trained as a co-driver. Then he could relieve me as driver. You can send her there now.”

  “No”

  There was silence then. Had he pushed too hard? Maybe, but he had to push to keep them off balance—while he kept his balance. He had to stay in command. The silence went on and on, then was suddenly broken.

  “You pick on only one,” Bruno Becker said in his slow and solemn manner. “The girls in the Becker family are as good at embroidery as the Mahrovas. Some say even better. My daughter-in-law, Arma, is known for the delicacy of her work.”

  “I know it,” Jan said, turning his back on The Hradil, deliberately, smiling and nodding enthusiastically. “And she is a very smart girl, as well. A moment, yes, isn’t her brother driver of nine train? I thought so. I’ll have him send for her. Her own brother will be able to tell her worth, and whether she will be able to be trained as a co-driver.”

  “Her embroidery is like chicken droppings in the sand,” The Hradil spluttered.

  “I’m sure both girls do fine work,” Jan said calmly. “But that is not the question. It is whether they can be trained to do a co-pilot’s work. I’m sure Otakar will be able to train Alzbeta as easily as Arma’s brother can teach her.”

  “Impossible. Alone, with only men.”

  “A problem easily solved. Very sensible of you to remind me. When Alzbeta comes in the morning to the engine, be sure a married woman is with her. You’ve solved in advance what might be a problem, Hradil, I do thank you. Now let us prepare a list of women who might be suitable for this work.”

  There seemed to be no trouble. The Family Heads were suggesting names, drawing up lists, with Jan agreeing and writing down the ones they thought best. Only The Hradil was silent. Jan chanced a look at her expressionless face and realized that all her feelings were in her eyes; burning pits of hatred. She knew what he had done and was filled with arctic loathing, frozen by it. If she had disliked him before, she hated him now, with a ferocity beyond belief. Jan turned away and tried to ignore her because he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

  Seven

  “Another hour at least,” Lajos Nagy said. “We have to blast more headroom or the engines will never get through. And I want to do static tests on the outer lip. I don’t like the condition of some of the rock.” He had been up an entire day and night, had worked right through the night. His skin was pale and marked by dark patches, like soot, under his eyes.

  “How many tanks will it take?” Jan asked.

  “Two. The ones with the oversize fusion guns.”

  “Leave those two and start ahead with the rest of the tanks. You must stay ahead of us.”

  “I’ll follow with these … .”

  “Oh no you won’t. You look like hell, do you know that? I want you asleep when the tanks leave. We’ve got a long trip ahead and a lot more trouble, I’m sure. Now don’t argue, or I’ll give your job back to Hein.”

  “You’ve talked me into it. Now that you mention it, I do feel like lying down.”

  Jan walked slowly across the newly-carved Road toward the waiting trains. He looked out at the harsh blue of the sky and winced at the glare. The sun was still behind the mountains, but it would rise soon enough. Beyond the sharp edge of the cliff there were only clouds hiding the jungle below. It was going to be a hot day. And get still hotter. He turned back to his engine to see Eino leaning against the golden flank of metal, sucking on a cold pipe. There was grease on his hands and arms and even on his face.

  “All done,” he told Jan. “Took most of the night, but worth it. I’ll doze in the engine room. Didn’t put the new brake valves in, no need. Old ones just gummed up. Rinsed out and put back. Work fine. Changed the filters in the lines, too. Solid with gunk. I’d like to bend that Decio over my knee. He never touched a one of them.”

  “Maybe I’ll let you do that. After the trip.”

  The few hours’ sleep he had grabbed had restored Jan and he enjoyed the climb up the side of the engine. As he clambered up the sun broke over the hills and shone on the metal so that, even through half-closed eyes, he was in the center of a golden glare. Half-blinded, he went through the hatch and slammed it after him. The air was cool and dry.

  “Gear box temperature, tire temperature, brake drum temperature, bearing temperature.”

  It wasn’t Otakar who was speaking, but a far sweeter and familiar voice. To think he had forgotten! Alzbeta sat in the co-driver’s seat, with Otakar standing behind her nodding his head happily. Not two feet away sat a pudgy, gray-haired woman, knitting with grim ferocity. The Hradil’s own daughter, watchdog and guardian of virgins. Jan smiled to himself as he slipped into his driver’s chair. Alzbeta glanced up at the motion and her voice died.

  “She’s doing absolutely fantastic,” Otakar said. “About ten times brighter and ten times smarter than the last dim dirt-scratcher I tried to teach this job to. If the other girls are anywhere as good, our driver problem is solved.”

  “I’m sure they will be,” Jan said, but his eyes were on Alzbeta as he spoke. So close he could almost touch her. Those dark eyes looking deep into his.

  “I like this work, too,” she said. Very seriously, her back to the others. Only Jan could see her eyes move up and down his body, followed by the slow wink.

  “For the good of the train,” he said, just as seriously. “I am glad that this plan will work. Isn’t that so, aunty?”

  The Hradil’s daughter returned only a glare of pure malice before bending back to her knitting. She had been well briefed by her mother. Her presence could be suffered. It was small enough price to pay to have Alzbeta nearby. When he spoke it was to Otakar—but his eyes were on the girl.

  “How soon before you think she will be ready to spell you as co-driver?”

  “Compared to some of the dummies on these trains, I would say she is ready now. But let her have a day here at least, observing, then perhaps tomorrow she can try a trial run in the seat with me standing by.”

  “Sounds good to me. What do you think, Alzbeta?”

  “I’m … not sure. The responsibility.”

  “The responsibility is not yours, it is the driver’s. I or Otakar will be in this seat, making the decisions and driving the train. Your job wi
ll be to help, to keep track of things, to watch the instruments, to follow orders. As long as you stay calm, you can do it. Do you think you can?”

  Her jaw was clamped tight and, beautiful as she was, there was more than a little of The Hradil in her when she spoke.

  “Yes. I can do it. I know I can do it.”

  “Very good. Then it is all arranged.”

  When the fusion guns had finished cutting the new Road, Jan personally walked every foot of it, the exhausted tank operator plodding at his side. They walked along the lip, just a metre from the sheer fall into the jungle far below. Despite the breeze the cutting was like an oven, the rock still warm under their feet. Jan knelt and tapped the edge of the rock with a heavy ball peen hammer he carried. A chunk of stone broke away and rattled down the slope and vanished over the drop.

  “I don’t like some of this rock. I don’t like it at all,” he said. The tank operator nodded.

  “Don’t like it myself. If we had more time I would widen the cut. I’ve done what I can with melt compacting. Hope the lava flow on the surface will penetrate and hold it together.”

  “You’re not the only one to hope that. All right, you’ve done all you can now. Get your tanks through and I’ll bring the first train over.” He started away, then turned back. “You’ve dug in the guide wire as we planned?”

  “Absolute minimum clearance. If it was one more centimeter to the right you would be taking off the top of the engine.”