Wheelworld

by Harry Harrison

  Lajos shook his head with concern. “I sincerely hope that you are right. But there is a lot of dead weight there. Can’t the engine help? Get a little reverse drive on the wheels?”

  “Negative. There is no way of controlling them from the engine room. But Vilho can cut the brakes on and off when we ask him, he’s jury-rigged a control for that, and that’s about all we can expect.”

  “No point in waiting then,” Lajos said. “We’re ready whenever you are.”

  “Some more water and we start.”

  It was awkward, exhausting work, made even more so by the deadly heat. Cables were hard to attach with the thick gloves of the coldsuits. They worked without a break until, bit by bit, it was done. Once he cables were attached the train was disconnected; the cables to the tank creaked when they took up the strain. But they held. The other tank had already lashed onto the front axle of the car to pull it out of the way. Because of the angle the first car had to be dragged sideways until it was clear of the engine. Impossible, normally, yet it could be done now because of the alien corpses that had caused the accident in the first place. Groaning and swaying the car was pulled across the road until it was clear. As soon as there was room enough the tank instantly dropped the cable and ground over to its position on the very edge of the road.

  “All cables attached.” The signal came at last. Jan was in the cab of the second tank, supervising the ponderous yet delicate operation.

  “All right. I’m rolling back to get tension on my cables. There we are. One, are you still taut?”

  “I am now.”

  “Good. Start pulling on the signal of go. Am I in touch in with Vilho on the brakes?”

  “I can hear you, Jan.”

  “Then keep your hand on the switch. We are going to get your weight on the cables. When the strain gauges read 300 I’ll signal you brakes, and that’s when you take the brakes off. Understand?”

  “No problem. Just pull me out of here. I don’t feel like a swim.”

  A swim. If a cable broke or they couldn’t hold the engine’s weight it would slide forward into the water. Vilho stood no chance of getting clear. It wasn’t to be thought about. Jan wiped the sweat from his face with his forearm—how could it be hot in the air conditioned tank?—and gave the order.

  “Here it comes, one. The signal is one, two, three—go!”

  The engine and gear train growled as power surged to the tracks. They moved slowly backward, clanking a single tread as the cable stretched under the load. Jan watched the strain gauge as the numbers flicked over. The instant it changed from 299 he shouted into the microphone.

  “Brakes! This is it! Keep it coming!”

  The engine stirred, shifting sideways—then stopped. The strain went up and up, approaching the breaking point of the cables. There was a safety factor built in, more pull could be applied. Jan did not look at the readout as he applied a touch more power. The cables vibrated, shook with the stress—and the engine stirred. Rolling backward slowly.

  “This is it! Keep it coming. Watch the front wheels when it comes over the top and hit your power down. There it comes … now!”

  It was done. Jan permitted himself one deep breath before he faced the next problem. The drowned cab and the drivers there. More weary than he wanted to admit, he pulled on his coldsuit.

  There was a burial. Brief, but still a burial, with the few men in coldsuits the only witnesses. Then right back to work. The cab was drained and Jan examined the damage. Jury controls could be rigged and improved later. He supervised the job himself although he was swaying with exhaustion. A small replacement port was set into the center of a heavy steel plate, and the whole thing crudely but carefully welded over the smashed front port. The driver would not be able to see much—but at least he could see. The air conditioning came back on and the compartment began to cool down and dry out. New controls replaced the damaged ones and were wired into position. As this was being done the tanks had carefully straightened out the jackknifed train and all of the couplings were examined carefully for damage. It seemed all right. It had to be all right.

  Hours later the trains started forward again. At a much reduced speed until the final repairs could be made—but they were moving. Jan was not aware of it. He had collapsed on the bunk in the engine room, unconscious before his head touched the pillow.

  It was dark when he awoke, hours later, and climbed wearily back into the driving compartment. Otakar was at the wheel, his face gray with fatigue.

  “Otaker, go below and get some sleep,” Jan ordered.

  “I’m fine … .”

  “He is not,” Alzbeta said, most emphatically. “He made me rest, and the others, but has had none himself.”

  “You hear the lady,” Jan said. “Move.”

  Otakar was too tired to argue. He nodded and did as he had been told. Jan slipped into the empty seat and checked the controls and automatic log.

  “We’re coming to the bad part now,” he said, soaked in gloom.

  “Coming to it!” Alzbeta was shocked. “What would you call that part we have just finished?”

  “Normally it would have been one of the easy stretches. The normal life forms there are usually no trouble. It is the ones we are starting through now that are the worst. Residents of eternal summer. All the energy they need from that white hot sun up there, all the food they can consume from the other life forms around them. It’s kill and be killed and it never stops.”

  Alzbeta looked out at the jungle beyond the burned edges of the Road and shivered. “I’ve never seen it like this,” she said in a hushed voice. “It all looks so terrible from up here in the engine with the unknown always sweeping towards us. When you look out of a car window it’s so different.”

  Jan nodded. “I’m sorry to say it, but there’s far worse out there that we can’t see. Animal life forms never noticed or catalogued. One time I put out nets, just for a few hours when we were going through here, and I caught at least a thousand different kinds of insects. There must be thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands more. The animals are harder to see—but they are there as well. They are voracious and will attack anything. That’s why we never stop out here until we’re out on the islands.”

  “The insects—why did you want to catch them? Are they good for anything?”

  He did not laugh, or even smile, at her simple question. How could she know any better, having been raised on this deadened world? “The answer is yes and no. No, they are good for nothing in the way we usually think of things. We can’t eat them, or use them in any other way. But, yes, the search for knowledge is an end in itself. We are here on this planet because of the pure search for knowledge and the discoveries made thereby. Though perhaps that is not the best example I could have used. Think of it this way … .”

  “Malfunction reports from train eight,” Hyzo called through from the communication board. “I’m putting you through.”

  “Report,” Jan said.

  “We seem to have some air intakes that are clogging up.”

  “You know the orders. Seal them and recycle the air.”

  “We’ve done that on one car, but there are complaints that the air is hard to breathe.”

  “There always are. These cars aren’t airtight—enough oxygen is getting in. No matter how bad the air smells it’s still all right. Do not, repeat do not, allow any windows to be opened.” Jan closed the connection and called out to Hyzo, “Can you put me through to Lajos with the tanks.”

  The connection was made quickly enough; Lajos sounded exhausted.

  “Some of these trees have trunks ten meters thick; takes time to burn through.”

  “Narrow the track then. We can’t be more than five hours behind you.”

  “The regulations say …”

  “The hell with regulations. We’re in a hurry. We’ll be back soon enough and we can widen then.”

  While he talked, Jan reset the autopilot, adding ten KPH to their speed. Otakar looked at the s
peedometer, but said nothing.

  “I know,” Jan said, “we’re going faster than we should. But we have people jammed in back there, crowded like they have never been before. It’s going to start stinking like a zoo soon … .”

  The nose radar bleeped a warning as they rounded a turn. Jan flipped off the automatics. Something big was on the Road—but not big enough to slow the engine. The creature reared up to do battle as they hurtled toward it and Alzbeta gasped. A quick vision of a dark green body, bottle green, too many legs, claws, long teeth—and then the engine hit it.

  There was a thud as they struck, then a jarring as they crushed the body beneath the wheels, then nothing. Jan flipped the autopilot back on.

  “We have at least eighteen more hours of this,” he said. “We can’t afford to stop. For any reason.”

  Less than three hours had gone by before the alarm came in. It was train eight again, someone shouting so loud the words were unclear.

  “Repeat,” Jan said, shouting himself above the other’s hoarse voice. “Repeat, slow down, we cannot understand you.”

  “ … bit them … unconscious now, all swollen, we’re stopping, get the doctor from number fourteen .”

  “You will not stop. That is an order. Next stop in the islands.”

  “We must, the children …”

  “I will personally put any driver off the train if he stops along this Road. What happened to the children?”

  “Some sort of bugs bit them, big; we killed them.”

  “How did they get into the car?”

  “The window …”

  “I gave orders—” Jan clutched the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. He took a deep breath before he spoke again. “Open circuit. All car commanders. Check at once for open windows. All of them must be closed. Train eight. There is antivenom in every car. Administer it at once.”

  “We did, but it doesn’t seem to be working with the children. We need the doctor.”

  “You’re not getting him. We’re not stopping. He can’t do anything other than administer the antivenom. Hook through to him now and describe the symptoms. He’ll give you what advice he can. But we’re not stopping.”

  Jan turned off the radio. “We can’t stop,” he said to himself. “Don’t they understand? We just can’t stop.”

  After dark there was more life on the Road, creatures that stood dazzled by the lights until they vanished under the wide wheels, things that appeared suddenly out of the darkness and were crushed against the windshield. The trains kept moving. It wasn’t until dawn that they came to the mountains and the tunnel, diving into its dark mouth as into a refuge. The Road climbed as it penetrated the barrier and when they emerged they were on a high and barren plateau, a rocky plain made by leveling a mountain top. On both sides of the Road the tanks were pulled up, the exhausted drivers sleeping. Jan slowed the trains until the last one had emerged from the tunnel, then signaled the stop. When the brakes were set and the engines off the radio hummed to life.

  “This is train eight. We would like the doctor now.” There was a cold bitterness in the voice. “We have seven ill. And three children dead.”

  Jan looked out at the dawn so he would not have to see Alzbeta’s face.

  Ten

  The two of them were eating together at the folding table in the rear of the engine. The Road was straight and flat, and Otakar was alone at the wheel. When they talked quietly he could not hear them. Hyzo was below with Eino; the occasional cry and slap of cards indicated what they were doing. Jan had no appetite but he ate because he knew he had to. Alzbeta ate slowly, as though she wasn’t aware of what she was doing.

  “I had to,” Jan said, his voice almost a whisper. She did not answer. “Don’t you understand that? You haven’t said a word to me since. Two days now.” She looked down at her plate. “You’ll answer me or you’ll go back to your family car with the others.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you. You killed them.”

  “I knew it was that. I did not—they killed themselves.”

  “Just children.”

  “Stupid children, now dead ones. Why weren’t their parents watching them? Where was the supervision? The families here must breed for stupidity. Everyone knows what kind of animal life there is in that jungle. We never stop there. What could the doctor have done?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “We do know. The children would have died in any case, and perhaps the doctors and others as well. Don’t you understand I had no choice? I had to think of all of the others.”

  Alzbeta looked down at her clasped hands, her fingers wrung tightly together. “It just seems so very wrong.”

  “I know it does—and it was not easy to do. Do you think I have slept since they died? It’s on my conscience if that makes you feel any better. But how would I have felt if I had stopped and there were more casualties? The children would have died in any case before the doctor reached them. Stopping would only have made matters worse.”

  “Perhaps you’re right; I’m not sure anymore.”

  “And perhaps I was wrong. But right or wrong I had to do what I did. There was no choice.”

  They let it rest there; there was no simple answer. The trek continued, along the chain of islands, along the planed mountain peaks. At times they could see the ocean on both sides and, from this high up, it almost looked attractive. The teeming life could not be seen, just the white tops and the marching rows of waves. Very soon a blur on the horizon grew to a long range of mountains. Before they arrived at the southern continent Jan ordered a full eight hour stop. All running gear, tires, brakes, wheels, were inspected and all of the air filters cleaned again, though they did not need it. Another jungle was ahead and there would be no stopping. It was not as wide as the one north of the island chain, but was just as virulent.

  This was the last barrier, the last trial. They went through it in three days, without stopping, and into the tunnel beyond. When the last train was well inside the tunnel they halted to rest, then drove on short hours later. This was the longest of the tunnels, for it penetrated the entire range. When they emerged into sunlight again they were surrounded by desert, sand and rock glinting in the lights of their headlights. Jan checked the outside air temperature.

  “Ninety-five degrees. We’ve done it. We’re through. Hyzo, contact all drivers. We’re going to stop for one hour. They can open the doors. Anyone who wants to go out can. Just warn them about touching metal; it might still be hot.”

  It was holiday, release from captivity, excitement. All down the rows of the trains doors crashed open and the exodus began. The ladders rattled to the hard surface of the Road and people called to each other as they climbed down. It was hot and uncomfortable—but it was freedom after the cramped discomfort of the cars. They were all there, men, women and children, walking up and down in the light from the windows and the headlights of the trucks. Some of the children ran to the edge of the Road to dig in the sand and Jan had to issue orders to discipline them. Other than the lumpers there was little of danger in the barren desert, but he could risk no more accidents. He gave them an hour and by that time most of them, tired and sweat-drenched, were back in the air conditioned cars. After a night’s rest they pressed on.

  The brief autumn of the Halvmörk year was almost over and the further south they went the shorter the days became. Soon the sun would not rise at all and the southern hemisphere winter would begin, four Earth years of twilight. The growing season.

  As the desert swept past the windows of the cars, the passengers forgot all their discomforts and even suggested longer driving days. They would be home soon and that would be the end of their troubles.

  Jan, driving the lead engine, saw the posts first. The sun sat on the horizon and the shadows were long. For days now there had only been the unchanging sand and rock of the desert. The change was abrupt. A row of fence posts flashed by marking the limits of a baked and cracked field. First one, then another came into v
iew, the outlying farms. There was cheering down the lengths of all the trains.

  “That’s a relief,” Otakar said. “Here at last. I was beginning to get tired.”

  Jan was not cheering, or even smiling. “You are going to be a lot more tired before this is all over. We have to unload the corn and turn the trains around.”

  “Don’t remind me. You’re going to hear a lot of grumbling.”

  “Let them. If this planet is to have any future at all it will be because we have the corn here when the ships arrive.”

  “If,” Alzbeta said.

  “Yes, there’s always the if. But we have to act as though it will happen. Because it will be the end of everything if the ships don’t come at all. But we can worry about that later. I don’t mean to be the skeleton at the feast. Let’s stop these trains on the Central Way, set the brakes and see if we can’t have a party tonight. I think everyone is in the mood for one. We can begin unloading the corn after a good night’s sleep.”

  The party was very much in the order of things, there were no complaints about that. With the air temperature now down in the 80s it could be held outside, with elbow room and freedom for everyone. When the trains halted for the last time between the rows of barren foundations the doors burst open. Jan watched them swarming out into the twilight, then climbed slowly down the rungs from the driving compartment.

  He still had work to do. The first chairs were being taken out and the trestle tables set up as he went to the rear of the main silo building. After four years of torrid summer the thick walls still radiated heat as he passed. Dust was banked high against the heavy metal door in the rear and he kicked it away with his boot. There were two sets of mechanical locks on the door, and an electronic one. He used his keys to open them, one by one, then pushed against the door. It opened easily and the cool air rushed out around him. Once inside he locked the door behind him and looked around at the familiar scene. This water Central Control was identical with the one he had shut down in North town before leaving on the trek. These two control rooms were the only buildings that were permanently air conditioned and climate controlled. They made human life on the planet possible.