He was in charge.
The solid frame of the engine beneath him hummed lightly with the still-restrained power of the engine. Heavy couplings and a web of cables connected it to the car behind and to the others behind that. Then there were the other engines and their trains, filled with the goods of this planet and all of its inhabitants. Every person, other than the maintenance crews, was there, waiting for his order. He felt the sudden dampness of his palms and wrapped his hands tightly about the hard steering wheel before him. The moment passed and he was in control again.
“All drivers.” Jan’s voice was as calm and businesslike as it always was. His internal feelings were still his own. “We’re moving out. Set your proximity radar at one kilometer. No variations permitted above 1100 meters or below 900. Set automatic braking controls for 950. If — for any reason — we have an engine less than 900, and I mean 899 and down, from the train ahead, we will have a new driver. No exceptions. Minimum acceleration on starting up and watch the stress gauges on your couplings. We’re carrying at least twice our normal loaded weight and we can pull those couplings out like rotten teeth without even trying. Right now we are going to use a new maneuver, and I want it used every time we start. Co-drivers, enter it into your checklists. Ready to copy.
“One. All car brakes off.
“Two. Set brakes on last car.
“Three. Select reverse gear.
“Four. Reverse minimum speed for five seconds.”
This was a trick he had learned in his cadet days when he was doing maintenance on the freight monorails under the city. Backing up took out all the play in the joints and couplings. Then, when the train started forward, the entire weight of the train would not have to be set into motion at the same time, but bit by bit as the play was taken up. In this way inertia actually aided the starting up, rather than retarding it, as the weight of the cars already in motion was used to accelerate those still at rest.
With the heel of his hand Jan pushed the gear selector into reverse, then set the speed governor at the first notch. All the brakes in the train were off except for the red light glowing on car twelve. When he stepped on the throttle with his left foot he felt the acceleration of the gear trains and a heavy shuddering through the metal of the floor. The coupling strain gauges dropped to zero, then reversed. Skid blinked on and off on twelve’s panel, and he killed the power as the digital readout of the clock read five.
“Prepare to move out,” he said and pulled the gear selector into low range. “Second file of trains hold position until the last of file one has passed. Then fall into position behind. All controls on manual until you are notified different. First stop in nineteen hours. Final stop in Southtown. See you all there.”
He took the wheel firmly in both hands and let his foot rest on the accelerator.
“Move out!”
Jan stepped down slowly and the engine revved up. At speed, the hydraulic clutch engaged and the torque was transmitted to the drive wheels. They turned and the engine moved ahead, car after car being set into motion behind it, until the whole giant train was rolling slowly forward. To his left the lead engine of the second file slid back and out of sight and ahead was only the empty expanse of the Road. The rear scanner mounted on top of the engine showed the train following smoothly after. The screen next to it, hooked to the scanner in the last car, showed engine two dropping behind. Strain gauges were all well into the green. Engine speed and road speed moved up to the top of the low range and he shifted to middle.
“All green,” Otakar said. He had been monitoring all the other readouts from the co-driver’s seat. Jan nodded and turned the steering wheel to the left, then centered it again to hold the turn. Unlike the smaller ground cars, the powered steering was set by displacement of the wheel and held in position by centering. He then turned the steering wheel right to straighten the wheels again and centered it when they were at zero degrees forward. Then he came right to align the engine in the middle of the Road, centered over the control cable buried under the rock surface. The cars of the train behind each turned at precisely the same spot in the same way, like a monotrain going through switches.
Jan kept the speed at the top of the middle range until all the trains had begun to move, strung out in position one kilometer apart. The city site and even the farms had vanished behind before the last train was moving. Only then did he accelerate into the highest, road speed range. The tires hummed below, the Road rushed toward him, the featureless sand desert moved by on each side. He held the wheel, driving still on manual, guiding the engine, the train, all of the trains down the Road, south, toward the opposite continent and Southtown, still 27,000 kilometers away.
One of the few outstanding features in this stretch of desert appeared as a speck on the horizon and slowly grew as they raced toward it. A black spire of rock pointing a dark finger at the sky. It reared up from a ridge massive enough that the Road took a slow swing out and around it. As it passed Jan signaled for the all-driver circuit.
“Needle Rock coming up on your left. Mark it. As you pass you can go on autopilot.”
He set the controls himself as he talked, feeding in maximum and minimum speeds with his left hand, max and mm acceleration and braking as well. The gridded scope screen on the autopilot showed that he was centered over the central cable. He flipped the switch to on and leaned back, realizing that he was stiff from the strain, kneading his fingers together.
“A good start,” Otakar said, still looking at the readouts. “It will project to a good trip.”
“I only hope you’re right. Take the con while I stretch.”
Otakar nodded and slipped into the driver’s seat when Jan stood up. His muscles creaked when he flexed his arms and he walked back to the rear compartment to look over the communication officer’s shoulder.
“Ryzo,” he said, “I want a…”
“I have a red here,” Otakar called out sharply.
Jan spun about and ran to lean over the co-driver’s shoulder. A red light had appeared, flashing among the rows of green, and a brief instant later there was a second, then a third.
“Brake drum heat on cars seven and eight. What the devil can that mean? All brakes are off.” Jan muttered savagely to himself, things had been going too good, and leaned forward to press the readout button. Numbers appeared on the screen. Up over twenty degrees on both those cars — and still rising.”
He thought quickly. Should he stop and investigate? No, that would mean halting the entire line of trains, then getting them moving again. There were at least 300 kilometers more of desert road before they hit the foothills, and he wouldn’t be needing brakes at all until that time.
“Kill the brake circuits in both those cars and see what happens,” he said.
Otakar hit the switches while he was still issuing the order. Now the two cars no longer had operating brakes, but the safety circuits should have gone dead in the off position. They did. The temperature in the brake drums dropped slowly until, one after the other, the red lights went out.
“Keep the con,” Jan said, “while I see if I can figure out just what the hell is going on.” He went to the rear and threw up the cover of the hatch down to the engine compartment. “Emo,” he called through the opening. “Pass me up the diagrams and manuals on the car brake circuits. We have a problem.”