“You cannot order me, you attacked me, there are charges… drew a gun on me, Hem, and I defended you 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.”
Hem’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. Hem 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 shall 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 its 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 Hem.”
“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 Emo 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 tip 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.