“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, hut 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 will 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 meter 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 hall 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.”
“Good.” Jan had been thinking about this and he knew what had to be done. There would be protests, but they would follow his orders. His own crew were predictably the first.
“You’ll need an engineer for this job,” Emo said. “I promise not to sleep.”
“I will not need one. The engines will be dead slow all the way, so they can do without your attention for a few minutes. Nor will I need a co-driver or a communications officer for that short a time. Clear the driving compartment. Once we’re past this you’ll learn the job, Alzbeta.” He guided her toward the hatch with his hand on her elbow, ignoring the gasps and raised knitting needles of her chaperone. “Don’t worry.
There were more protests from the passengers as they were unloaded but, in a few minutes, Jan was alone in the train. If anything happened he would be the only one to suffer. They could not afford to waste more time here; they must press on.
“All clear,” Otakar called from the open hatch. “I can still come along.”
“See you on the other side. Clear the train, I’m starting.”
He touched lightly on the accelerator and, at absolutely minimum speed, the engine crawled forward. As soon as it was moving he set the autopilot and took his hands from the wheel. He was committed. The engine would take itself across in a far more controlled manner than he himself could. As the train crept forward he went to the open hatch and looked at the edge of the Road. If there were trouble, it would be there. Centimeter by centimeter they crawled through the newly-burned section of Road, closer and closer to the far end.
The sound was a grinding rumble, easily heard above the drone of the engine, and as the noise began cracks appeared in the hard surface of the stone. Jan started to turn to the controls, then realized he could do nothing. He stood, his fingers tight-clamped to the edge of the hatch, as the great section of Road broke away and vanished with a roar toward the valley floor, far below. Cracks spread like deadly fingers across the surface, reaching for the train.
Then stopped.
There was a great gap now, a chunk bitten out of the solid rock of the Road. But it ended short of the engine. The powerful machine lumbered past the opening and Jan sprang back to the controls, frantically switching from camera to camera to get a view of the following car. Now the engine was through safely, past the gap.
However, the cars it pulled were almost three times wider.
His foot was a fraction of a centimeter above the brake pedal, his fingers resting on the autopilot, his eyes fixed on the screen.
The wheels of the first car crept toward the gap, the outer, double wheel apparently aimed directly at it. It would never get by. He was about to stamp on the brakes when he looked closer. Just possibly.
The wheel rolled to the edge of the gap — and dropped over the lip.
The outer tire of the two. It turned slowly in the air, blue sky showing under it. All of the weight of the overloaded car came onto the inner wheel.
As the tire skirted the very edge of the drop it compressed under the weight, flattening to an oval. Then the other tire hit the far edge of the gap and the car was safe on the other side. The radio bleeped in Jan’s ear and he switched it on.
“Did you see that?” Otakar asked, in a very weak voice.
“I did. Stay close by and report on the broken area. I’m going to take the rest of the train across. If it stays this way it will be fine. But tell me instantls if there are any more falls.”
“I’ll do that, you can be sure.
At minimum crawling speed the cars followed, one by one, until the entire train was safely across the gap. As soon as the last car was reported safely past Jan killed the engine, jammed on the brakes, and let out a deep sigh. He felt as though every muscle in his body had been worked over with a heavy hammer. To relieve the tension he jogged back to the new section of road to join Otakar.
“No more falls, none at all,” the co-driver reported.
“Then we should be able to get the other trains through.” The passengers were crossing on foot now, pressed as close to the inside wall as they could, looking with frightened eyes at the cut edge and the gaping crevice. “Take the first engine and keep going. Half speed until all the trains are over. It should go well now. When they are through I’ll catch up on the cycle. Any questions?”
“Nothing I can put into words. This is your show, Jan. Good luck.”
It was hours before the last train was past, but they all made it safely. There were no more rock falls. As Jan sped along beside the slow-moving trains he wondered what the next emergency would be.