Wheelworld

by Harry Harrison

  “Why should I bother to lie now? If the ships don’t come we’re all dead in any case. But until they do I intend to live like a man again, not a silent slave like the rest of you. At least you have a good excuse, you’re enslaved by stupidity, lack of knowledge. I have been enslaved by fear. My actions are being watched, I’m sure of that. As long as I stay in line, cause no trouble, I’ll be all right. I’ve been all right for years. The watchers like me here. A planet for a prison—and at the same time they can get value out of me from my skills. But they don’t need me. If I cause trouble I’m dead. Meanwhile, all of the years and money invested in my education are not going to waste. They sent me here to use those talents. With the strict instructions that I could live here in peace through the days of my years and I would not be bothered. But if I spoke one word about what life is really like off this planet, why then I would be dead. So I’m dead, Semenov, do you realize that? If the ships don’t come, I’m dead. If they come and are manned by the same people, why then you speak a word—and I am just as dead. So I deliver myself into your hands and do it for the oldest reason of all. Love. Marry us, Semenov, that’s all you have to do.”

  Semenov was wringing his hands together, not knowing what to think. “These are most disturbing things you say, Jan. To myself, when I am alone, I have had certain questions, but there has never been anyone to ask. Though the history books are most explicit … .”

  “The history books are dull works of fiction.”

  “Jan,” the voice broke from the engine room speaker. “Call for you.”

  “Patch it through.” There was a burst of static then Lee Ciou’s voice spoke.

  “Jan. A little bit of trouble. One of the tanks threw a tread. They pulled to the edge of the Road and are working on it now. You should be up to it in a few minutes.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take care of it.”

  Semenov sat in introverted silence when Jan went out, was unaware that he was gone. The engine slowed when the two stopped tanks came into sight. Jan gauged the distance.

  “Slow to 10 K’s as you pass, I’ll hop off.”

  He opened the door to a blast of torrid air. Next time out it would probably have to be in a coldsuit. He swung down to the bottom rung and hung there, then dropped off in a run, waving back at the engine, which picked up speed again. Lee Ciou and two mechanics had the broken tread spread out on the rock surface of the Road and were hammering the retaining pin from the damaged section.

  “Cracked link,” Lee Ciou said. “No way to repair it. Metal’s crystallized, you can see here at the break.”

  “Wonderful,” Jan said, scratching the brittle metal with his fingernail. “Put on one of your spares.”

  “Don’t have any. Used them all up. But we can take one from the other tank—”

  “No. We won’t do that.” He looked up at the sky. It’s beginning to happen, he thought. The ships don’t come and things wear out and they can’t be replaced. This is the way it is going to end. “Leave the tank here and let’s join the others.”

  “But we just can’t leave it.”

  “Why not? If we cannibalize spares now what will we use when the next breakdown happens? We leave it and we move on. Lock it up and when the ships come we can put it right.”

  It took only a few minutes to get out the few personal belongings and to close the hatch. In silence they boarded the other tank and put on speed to catch up with trains that had gone by. It was then that Semenov called on the radio.

  “I have been thinking a lot since we talked.”

  “I hope you have, Ivan.”

  “I want to talk to—you know who—before I decide. You understand?”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Then I want to talk to you—I have some questions. I don’t say I agree with you, not about everything. But I think I will be willing to do what you ask.”

  The tank driver jumped, his hands twitching on the speed controls, so that the tank lurched abruptly at Jan’s loud cry of victory.

  Fifteen

  The engineers who had built the Road must have exacted great pleasure from conquering nature in the most dramatic manner possible. This great range of mountains, labeled simply Range 32-BL on the Road map, could have been penetrated in a number of ways. A simple long tunnel could have done it, slicing through to the lower coastal ranges, where the Road would have been easy to construct. The designers had taken no such simple solution. Instead the Road rose up through long and easy loops almost to the summit of the range; in fact it did cross the leveled peaks of some of the lesser mountains. And here it stayed, piercing peak after high peak with straight-bored tunnels. The rubble from the tunnels had been used as fill to bridge the valleys between, then compacted again to solid rock with molten lava. The energy used to do this had been prodigal but not wasteful. The Road was there, a monument to their skill and craft.

  At the entrance to the tunnel that pierced the largest mountain, there was an immense leveled area. The builders had undoubtedly used this as a park for their great machines. Some idea of their size could be gained by the fact that all of the trains, every engine and car, could be pulled up here at the same time. It was a favorite stopping place for the families, where repairs or servicing of the trains could be made, offering a chance to socialize after endless days in the same cars.

  A big advantage was the height—and the fact that Flat Spot was on the shadow side of the mountain. This made the temperature, while still hot, bearable enough to go about without coldsuits. The men walked slowly, stretching and laughing, glad of the break from routine, though they did not know the reason. Meeting, 2130 hours, by the lead engine. It made a pleasant change.

  Ivan Semenov waited until they were all assembled, then climbed up on the makeshift platform of lubrication drums supporting a thick sheet of plastic. He spoke into the microphone and his amplified voice rolled over them, calling to them for silence.

  “I have come to consult with you,” he said, and there was a quickly hushed murmur from the men before him. Family Heads never consulted, they issued orders. “That may sound unusual to you but we are now living in unusual times. The pattern to our life and existence has been broken and, perhaps, may never be mended. The ships did not come when they should—and they may never come. If that happens we are dead, and no more need be said. Because they did not come we have brought the corn, all that we could, to Southland and are now returning to get as much more as we can. To accomplish this, the rule of the Family Heads was defied by you men. Don’t deny it—face the truth. You defied us and won. If you care to know, I was the only one of the Heads who agreed with you. Perhaps because, like you, I work with machines and am different. I do not know. But I do know that change has begun and cannot be halted. Therefore I am going to tell you about another change. You have all heard the rumors, so I will now tell you the fact. This is not an all-male expedition. We have a woman with us.”

  This time the buzz of voices drowned him out, and the men moved about trying to get a better view of the platform to see who was there. The silence returned, gradually, when Semenov raised his hands.

  “She is Alzbeta Mahrova, whom you all know. She is here by her own choice. Her other choice is that she wishes to marry Jan Kulozik, and he does choose to marry her as well.”

  After this he had to shout to be heard, begging for silence, turning up the volume until his voice boomed and echoed from the rock wall behind him. When he could at last be heard he went on.

  “Quiet, please, hear me out. I said I have come to consult you and I am. As a Family Head I have power vested in me to marry this couple. But the Head of Alzbeta’s family has forbidden the union. I feel I know what I should do, but what do you men think the decision should be? …”

  There was never any doubt. The roar of approval shook the rock with greater sound than the amplifiers had used. If there were any dissenting voices, they were drowned in the sound of the vast majority. When Jan and Alzbeta appeared from
the train, they shouted even louder, picking him up and carrying him laughing on their shoulders, yet still too bound by the laws they were breaking to touch her.

  The ceremony was brief but affectionate, different from any other they had witnessed because of the all-male audience. The questions were asked and the answers given, their hands joined together, their lives joined as well when the rings were brought forward. A toast was drunk by all present and the deed was done. But it was a single toast since time was pressing. Their honeymoon would be on the rolling trains.

  Through the mountain range and into the eternal blasting heat of the tropical sun. They made better time than they had on the outward trip, for the Road was clear and they were lightly loaded. The tank crews stayed far ahead and the only difficulty was crossing the drowned section of Road. The empty cars had a tendency to float and had to be brought over one by one with an engine at each end. The only ones who did not mind the delay were Jan and Alzbeta, who were forbidden to help in the operation and were ordered to remain inside their car. It was the only wedding present that the hard-working men could give them and was appreciated all the more.

  Once the water was passed the Road was clear again—though never empty of danger. The never-setting sun now had a brassy color to it and there was an ominous haze in the air.

  “What is it?” Alzbeta asked. “What is wrong?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Jan said.

  They were driving again, driver and co-driver of one of the engines. This way they were together all of the time, work periods and sleep periods. They did not mind; in fact they reveled in the pleasure of their companionship. To Alzbeta it was the final satisfaction of her existence as a woman. For Jan, the end of loneliness. But this was not a world to allow unlimited peace and happiness.

  “Dust,” Jan said, squinting out at the sky. “And I can think of only place it could come from. I think, but I can’t be sure.”

  “Where?”

  “Volcanic action. When volcanoes erupt they hurl dust high into the atmosphere where the winds bring it right around the planet. I only hope this eruption was nowhere near the Road.”

  It was closer than they liked. Within twenty hours the tanks sent back word of an active volcano on the horizon. The jungle here was burnt and dead, while the Road was thick with great chunks of scoria and heavy with dust. They were working to clear a way through. The trains soon caught up with them.

  “It’s … horrible,” Alzbeta said, looking out on the blackened landscape and the drifting clouds of smoke and dust.

  “If this is the worst we hit, we are all right,” Jan told her.

  They crawled at minimum speed when they passed the volcano, for the Road could not be kept completely clear, and they crept through the constantly falling debris. The volcano was no more than ten kilometers from the Road, still active, wreathed in clouds of smoke and steam which were lit by red flashes and gouts of lava.

  “In a way I’m a little surprised that we have not had this kind of trouble before,” Jan said. “It must have taken an awful lot of artificial earthquakes to build the Road. That’s a matter of record. And the energy it takes to start an eruption is only the tiniest part of the energy that is released. The builders knew their business and did not leave until the seismic processes were reduced. But there can be no guarantee that they are all ended. As we can see out there.” He looked out gloomily at the volcano, now dropping behind them.

  “But it’s over,” she said. “We’re through.”

  Jan did not want to erase her happy smile by reminding her that there would have to be a return trip. Better the happiness of the hour.

  Then they came to the scorched farmlands and the immense silos baking under the relentless sun. Loading the corn began, a slow process because of the limited number of coldsuits. Nevertheless the work was continuous, one man taking over when the other ended his shift, putting a newly charged powerpack into the coldsuit, careful not to touch the burning metal of the external fittings. Out into the heat to swing the discharge hose over the opening in a car roof, to fill it to overflowing. The car was moved on, the hole sealed, another appeared below. The Road was knee-deep in corn for they made no attempt to be careful; speed was more important than neatness. More corn would be left to burn than they could carry away. When the last train was being filled, Jan consulted with Semenov.

  “I’m taking the tanks out now. But I’m worried about the section of Road that passes the volcano.”

  “You’ll clear it easily enough.”

  “I’m not concerned about that. The volcanic activity seems to have died down. But we did have that big quake some days ago. If we could feel it here, how must it be that much closer? The Road itself may be damaged. I want a good lead time.”

  Semenov nodded reluctant agreement. “I just hope that you are wrong.”

  “So do I. I’ll report back as soon as I get there.”

  They ran at top speed and made the journey without a stop. Jan was asleep when they came to the volcanic area, and Otakar, who was co-driving the lead tank with him, came down to shake him awake.

  “Big drifts across the road, but otherwise it doesn’t look bad.”

  “I’ll come right up.”

  They left the other tanks with dozer blades to clear the Road, then ground ahead over the mountainous drifts. The air was clear and the volcano itself soon came into sight, silent at last, with just a plume of smoke drifting from its conical summit.

  “That’s a relief,” Otakar said.

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  They went on until the tank was stopped by an immense drift of dust and rock that completely blocked the Road. All they could do was back to one side and wait for the tanks with blades. They caught up quickly because all they were doing on the first pass was making a cut big enough to let them through. They would return and widen it for the trains.

  The driver of the dozer tank waved as he tackled the mountainous mass, and was soon out of sight behind it. “It’s getting shallow again,” he reported by radio. “Not deep at all on this side …” His voice ended in a gasp.

  “What is it?” Jan asked. “Come in. Can you hear me?”

  “Better see for yourself,” the driver reported. “But come through slowly.”

  Jan ground his tank forward through the gap, saw the tread marks of the other tank, saw that it had backed to one side so he could see the Road ahead.

  It was clear now why the driver had gasped. There was no Road ahead. It ended at the brink of a fissure, a small valley that must have been a kilometer wide at least.

  The ground had opened up and swallowed the Road, leaving an unspannable chasm in its place.

  Sixteen

  “It’s gone—the Road’s gone,” Otakar said, gasping out the words.

  “Nonsense!” Jan was angry. He was not going to be stopped. “This fissure can’t go on forever. We’ll follow it away from the volcano, away from the area of seismic activity.”

  “I only hope that you’re right.”

  “Well we don’t have much choice—do we?” There was no warmth at all in the smile that went with the words.

  It was slow and dangerous work once they were away from the hard surface of the Road. The burnt jungle was a barrier of stumps, with ash and dust filled pits between that could trap a tank. They were caught this way time and again, one tank after another. Each time it happened a weary driver would go out in a coldsuit to attach cables to drag the trapped vehicle clear. The dust and ash clung to their suits and was carried back into the tanks, until everything was coated and filthy. After relentless hours of labor the men were close to exhaustion. Jan realized this and called a halt.

  “We’ll take a break. Clean up a bit, get something to eat and drink.”

  “I have a feeling I’ll never be clean again,” Otakar said, grimacing as the grit in the food ground between his teeth. The radio light signaled for attention and Jan flicked it on.

  �
��Semenov here. How is it coming?”

  “Slowly. I’m taking a wide swing in the hope we will be able to bypass the fissure. I don’t want to have to make a second cut. Is the loading done?”

  “Last train filled and sealed. I’ve pulled the trains two kilometers down the Road. The spilled corn is beginning to catch fire, and I wanted us clear of any danger.”

  “Yes, keep them well away. The silos will go next—will probably explode from the internal pressure. I’ll keep you informed of our progress.”

  They went through two more sleep periods, locked in the filthy tanks, before they reached the volcanic fissure again. Jan saw it appear suddenly as the burnt tree he was pushing aside disappeared over the edge. He jammed on both brakes, then wiped the inside of the front port as the clouds of ash settled outside.

  “It’s still there,” Otakar said, unable to keep the despair from his voice.

  “Yes—but it’s no more than a hundred meters wide. If it’s no deeper, we’ll just start filling it and we won’t have to go any further.”

  It was just possible. As the tanks widened and leveled the new track they had cut, the debris was pushed over the edge. Fusion guns burned and compacted it while more and more rubble was added to the growing mound. Eventually it reached the top and the first tank clanked gingerly forward onto the new surface. It held.

  “I want more fill in there,” Jan ordered. “Keep the fusion guns on it too. Those engines and trains are a lot heavier than these tanks. We’ll split into two groups. One to compact the fill, the other to cut a track back to the Road on the other side. I’ll get the trains up behind us, ready to cross as soon as we’re done.”

  It was a rough and ready job, the best they could do. They labored for more than a hundred hours before Jan was satisfied with the result.

  “I’m going to bring the first train over. The rest of you stand by.”

  He had not been out of his clothes since they had started the job; his skin was smeared and black, his eyes red-rimmed and sore. Alzbeta gasped when she saw him—when he looked in the mirror and saw why, he had to smile, himself.