“We’re across. The Road is still there.”
“But — can the trains make it?” Otakar asked.
“They are going to have to, aren’t they?” There was no answer to that.
Eight
Before there could be any thought of taking the trains across the drowned section of Road there was the barricade of the abandoned tank to be considered. Jan drove the engine back down the Road, with scarcely any trouble passing the mud-coated section on the return trip, and stopped a few meters from the tank.
“Any ideas?” he asked.
“Any chance of starting it up?” Otakar asked.
“Negative. The pile has been damped and all the circuits are wet by now. But there is something we have to find out before we even look for a way to tackle this.” He put in a call to Lajos, who had been driving the tank when it went under. The answer was not cheering at all. “The drive is still engaged. About the only thing we can do with that tank is push it aside. And we can’t do that unless it will roll free. It will be impossible to skid that amount of dead weight.
“You’re the Maintenance Captain,” Otakar said. “So you are the one to answer that question best.”
“I know the answer. With the power dead the manual disengage lever has to be used. But the trouble is that the thing is clamped to the inside rear wall. It has to be unhooked, fitted into place, then turned about a dozen times. All of this under, what? about three meters of water. Do you swim, Otakar?”
“Where would I learn to do that?”
“A good question. Too much fertilizer in the canal to swim there — and that is the only body of water near the city. You think someone would have planned a swimming pool when the cites were designed. It wouldn’t have taken much. I imagine that leaves me as the only swimmer on Halvmork. A reluctant volunteer. But I’ll need some help.”
There was no easy way to make a face mask, but one of the pressure bottles filled with compressed air was simple enough to arrange. Jan worked with the valve until it released a steady flow of air, smelling of oil and grease, that should supply his needs without blowing his head off. Emo arranged a sling so he could carry it at his waist, with a plastic tube to his mouth. That and a waterproof light were all he needed.
“Bring us as close as you can,” he told Otakar as he stripped off his clothes. He kept his boots on. The metal would be hot, and he would need gloves as well. When the two machines were touching, nose to nose, he cracked the top hatch. A wave of burning air rolled in. Without a word he climbed to the hatch and pushed it open.
It was like climbing into a baker’s oven. The cool air of the engine was left behind in an instant as he emerged into the blinding, burning sunshine. He covered his eyes with his arm and shuffled the length of the engine’s roof, picking his way between the cooling fins. Trying not to gasp in the hot air, forcing himself to suck the cooler air from the tube instead. Though the soles of his shoes were thick the heat of the metal was penetrating already. At the edge he did not hesitate, but eased himself over into the water.
It was a steaming cauldron that drained the energy from his body. One, two, three, strokes took him to the open hatch on the tank and he did not permit himself to hesitate, but sank instantly beneath the surface. It was dark, too dark — then he remembered the light. The heat of the water about him was all engulfing, draining both his will and energy. Now the lever, he must get it.
Everything moved as slowly as in a dream, and if his chest hadn’t hurt he thought he might go to sleep. He was getting air from the tank, but not enough. The lever. It came free easily enough, but fitting it over the stud seemed immensely difficult. When it finally clicked into place he lost precious seconds trying to remember which way to move it. Then the turns, over and over until it would turn no more.
Time. Time to go. The lever and the torch dropped from his fingers and he tried to rise, but he could not. The light of the open hatch was clear above but he did not have the strength to swim up to it. With a last burst of his waning energy he tore the weight of the air tank away, spitting out the tube, and bent his knees. One last time. Pushing upward, swimming u p ward, hard, harder.
His hands came out of the water and clutched the edge of the hatch. Then his head was above the surface and he sucked in great gasps of the burning air. It hurt, but it cleared his head. When he was able, he dragged himself up and staggered across the top of the tank and threw himself in the direction of the engine.
And knew he could not make it, could not swim another stroke.
The rope splashed into the water beside his head and he clutched it reflexively. He was pulled to the engine, to the side, and Otakar reached down and took him by the wrists and pulled him from the water like an expiring fish. Jan was barely aware of this, his consciousness fading in a red haze, until his leg brushed the metal of the engine’s roof, searing the flesh almost to the bone. He shouted aloud at the sudden pain, his eyes wide, aware that Otakar was helping him. Otakar without a coldsuit, gasping with exhaustion.
They leaned one on the other as they made their way carefully across the top of the engine. Jan went down first, helped by the co-driver, who followed behind him. The air inside was arctic. For a long time all they could do was sit where they had dropped on the floor, fighting to recover.
“Let us not do that again if we can avoid it,” Jan said, finally. Otakar could only nod weak agreement.
Ryzo put burn cream on Jan’s leg, then wrapped it in gauze. It was painful, but a pill took care of that. And his fatigue as well. Dressed again, he sat in the driver’s chair and checked his controls.
“Any sign of leaking yet?” he asked the engineer.
“Negative. This beast is tight.”
“Good. Give me plenty of power. I’m going to push that tank off the Road. What will I break if I push it nose to nose?”
“Couple of lights, nothing important. We have solid steel there, four centimeters thick. Weight for traction. Just push.”
Jan did, easing forward at slowest possible revs until metal ground against metal and the engine shuddered. Keeping in the lowest gear he pressed down steadily on the accelerator. The clutches growled deeply and the entire engine shuddered as it fought against the dead weight of the tank. Something had to give.
The tank moved. Once it had started to roll backward, Jan kept the speed steady and turned the wheel ever so slightly, centering it again to hold the gradual turn. Bit by bit they turned until they left the cable behind and the tank was pointing at right angles to the Road. Jan centered the wheel and went on. Further and further from the center. Closer and closer to the edge.
Suddenly the tank reared up and Jan hit the brakes. It dropped over the edge instantly and, from the angle, the engine was just at the edge itself. Slowly and carefully he put the engine in reverse and backed away from the danger. Only when they were lined up again in the center of the Road did he let the air out of his lungs with a deep sigh.
“I agree,” Otakar said. “I hope this is the last of the trouble here.”
It was not easy, but there were no major problems in bringing the trains across the drowned stretch of Road. Just time. Wasted time. The cars, far lighter than the massive engines, had a tendency to float in the water. Two were the most that could be taken through at one time, and this possible only with an engine at either end. The shuttle continued without stop until all of the cars were across. Only when the trains had been assembled on the far side of the drowned section did Jan permit himself to relax, to sleep for more than a few hours at a time. He had ordered an eight hour rest period before they continued. Everyone needed it, the engine crews were exhausted, and he knew better than to press on with the drivers in this condition. They could rest but he could not. During the entire operation of moving the trains across the drowned section of Road he had been worrying away at a problem that refused to be dismissed. An obvious problem that faced him squarely when he drove back over the water-covered Road to the squadron of solitary tanks. He stopped the water-streaming engine next to the tanks, pulled on a coldsuit, and transferred to the lead tank.