“I thought you had forgotten about us,” Lajos Nagy said.
“Quite the opposite. I’ve been thinking of nothing else for days.”
“You going to leave the tanks here?”
“No — we need them too much.”
“But we can’t cross under our own power.
“I don’t expect you to. Look at this.”
Jan unrolled a blueprint, a side projection of one of the tanks. He had marked it up liberally with a large red pen. He tapped the lines he had added.
“These are our problem areas,” he said. “We are going to spray them all with mothball sealant. So they should be watertight long enough to get through the water and out on the other side.”
“Wait a bit,” Lajos said, pointing to the diagram. “You’ve got all the exit hatches sealed shut. How can the driver get out if he has to?”
“No drivers. We take the treads out of gear, seal the tanks watertight — then tow them across. A single cable will do for each. I tried it and it works.”
“I hope so,” Lajos said dubiously. “But I would hate to be in the engine towing one of these things if it went off the edge of the Road. It will pull the engine over with it.”
“It might very well. That is why we are going to rig a tow release that can be operated from inside the engine. If the tank starts to go we just cut it loose.”
Lajos shook his head. “I suppose there’s nothing else for it. Let’s try it with number six tank first. The clutches are almost shot and we may have to leave it behind in any case.
There was a unanimous sigh of relief when the plan worked. The towed tank vanished beneath the water and wasn’t seen again until it emerged on the other side of the sunken section of Road. The sealant was quickly scraped away and, except for a few puddles from a small leak, the tank was intact. The transfer of all the others began.
When the trek was ready to begin again the relief co-drivers were brought back to the engines. Alzbeta was carrying a sealed bundle that she set down when she took off her coldsuit.
“Something special,” she said. “I made it myself. It is a family recipe for special occasions. I think this is a special occasion. Beef stroganoff.”
It was delicious. The crew sat down to the first meal they had enjoyed since the trek had begun. There was freshly-baked bread with it, liters of beer and fresh green onions. There was even some cheese to follow, though few, if any, had space for this. But they groaned heroically and made room for it.
“Our thanks,” Jan said, taking her hand despite the presence of others. No one complained; apparently no one even noticed. They accepted Alzbeta as part of the crew now; an improved part since no one else could do a thing about meals other than heat frozen concentrates. Jan had a sudden inspiration.
“We’ll be rolling in about a half an hour. That’s just about time to check you out in the driver’s seat, Alzbeta. You don’t want to just be a co-driver all your life.”
“Good idea,” Otakar said.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t. It’s just not possible.”
“That’s an order, see you obey it.” His smile softened the impact of his words, and a moment later they were all laughing. Ryzo went for a rag and polished the chair for her; Otakar led her there and adjusted the seat so she could reach the pedals easily. With the power off she tentatively stepped on the brakes and accelerator and tugged on the steering wheel. She already knew the function of all of the instruments.
“See how simple it is,” Jan said. “Now put it in reverse and back a few feet.” She went pale.
“That’s different. I wouldn’t be able to.”
“Why not?”
“You understand, it’s your work.”
“For men only, you mean?”
“Yes, perhaps I do.”
“Then try it. You have been doing men — only work for the past week, you and the other girls, and the world hasn’t come to an end.”
“Yes — I will!”
She said it defiantly — and meant it. Things were changing and she liked the changes. Without a word of instruction she turned on the engine, disconnected the autopilot and did all the other things needed to ready the engine. Then, ever so tentatively, she engaged the reverse gear and backed the engine a bit. Then, when she had shut down the engine again, everyone cheered.
When the trek began again they were all in the best of moods, rested and happy. Which was a good thing, since the worst part of the journey was coming up. The engineers who had built the Road had done their best to avoid all the natural hazards of the planet. As much as possible of the Road stayed behind the coastal mountain barriers of the two continents. The penetration of the mountains themselves was done by tunnel. The coasts were avoided for the most part by putting the Road on the dikes offshore. On the raised chain of islands, the isthmus that connected the two continents, the Road ran high along the spine of the islands, the high mountain ridges.
But there was one hazard that could not be avoided. Eventually the Road would have to cross the tropical jungle barrier. The southernmost part of the continent was eternal burning summer. With the air temperature just a few degrees below the boiling point of water, this was a jungle hell.
The Road turned back inland briefly, plunging through a mountain range. The tanks were thirty hours ahead and working on clearing the Road, so Jan had reports on the conditions. But, as always, the reality was beyond description. The tunnel fell at a steep angle and his headlights glared against rock and Road. There were letters here, etched eternally into the surface of the Road itself, SLOW they read, SLOW repeated again and again. The tires rumbled as they crossed the pattern of letters. As the glaring mouth of the tunnel appeared ahead the trains were doing a lumbering 50 kilometers an hour.
Trees, vines, plants, leaves, the jungle burst with life on all sides, above, even on the Road itself. The Road was over 200 meters wide here, twice the normal width, and still the jungle had overrun it as the burgeoning plant life fought for the light of the sun. In the four years since they had passed last the trees on either side had sent long branches out, questing for the light. Many times these had grown so large that they had overweighed and toppled the parent trees onto the Road. Some had died and been used as a base for other plants and vines, while others, with their roots still fixed in the jungle, had thrived and grown higher from their new positions. Where trees had not obstructed the Road, creepers and vines, some a meter thick and more, bad crawled out onto the sunny surface.
The tanks had joined in battle against the trees; the black remains of their victories lined the Road on both sides. With their flame-exploding snouts, the fusion guns had gone first, burning every obstruction before them. Then dozer blades had cleared a path just wide enough for their treads: the tanks that followed had widened this, pushing back the charred remains. Now the trains moved slowly between two walls of blackened debris, still smoking in places. It was a nightmare sight.
“It’s horrible,” Alzbeta said. “Horrible to look at.”
“I don’t mean to make light of it,” Jan told her, “but this is just the beginning. The worse part is up ahead. Of course it is dangerous out there, always, even when the trip is made at the usual time. And we are late this year, very late.”