A Different Flesh

by Harry Turtledove

  Preen Chand looked back again. Sure enough, a plume of steam and smoke was rising above the train station. The elephant driver grunoed, sounding very much like Caesar. "Whatever Trevithick does, we are stil faster, so long as we are moving. What worries me is that he will go al night."

  "Do you want us to try that?" Tilak asked.

  "No," Preen Chand said regretfully; he had thought long and hard about it. "If we do, Caesar and Hannibal will be worth nothing tomorrow. Even as is, I am not sure they will be able to match today's pace. And I am so afraid they will have to. If Trevithick's engine works as he hopes, we will have to catch him from behind."

  Soon they were out among farms once more. Cows and sheep stared incuriously as the hairy elephants tramped past. Rifle-toting farmers guarded their stock. Even so close to Springfield, sims were a constant nuisance. They might not have the brains of humans, but they were too clever to trap.

  Preen Chand decided he was going to get a stiff neck if he kept turning around to look back, but he could not help it. He had to see the Iron Elephant in action. Here it came, with its train behind it.

  He put a spyglass to his eye for a better view.

  He thought it even uglier moving than stationary. Shafts connected to its pistons drove small gears at either side of the back of the engine.

  Those, in turn, meshed with larger gears in front of them, and the larger gears joined with the ones on the outside of the engine's four wheels. Smoke belched from the stack as the contraption crawled along.

  Even from close to half a mile away, Preen Chand could hear it chug and wheeze and rattle. It reminded him more of a flatulent iron cockroach than an elephant.

  When he said that out loud, Tilak chuckled, remarking, "The farm animals would agree with you, it seems."

  Preen Chand had been too busy studying the Iron Elephant to pay atoention to them. A quick glance showed his fellow driver to be right.

  The livestock had reacted to their own train as they would have toward a couple of mules hauling a waggon past, which is to say they did not react at all.

  The noisy, smoky, stinking steam engine was something else again.

  Animals' ears went up in surprise, then back in alarm. Terrified flocks pounded across the fields, farmers trying without much luck to halt them and now and then pausing to shake their fists at the Iron Elephant.

  "I never thought of that," Preen Chand exclaimed. "How can these machines ever accomplish anything, if sheep and cattle and horses will not go near them?"

  "Trevithick has come this far," Paul Tilak pointed out, which made Preen Chand give him a dirty look.

  The sun climbed the sky. One by one, the townsfolk who had ridden out to watch the race began turning back for Springfield. It was not the sort of event to be easily watched.

  Neither contestant moved very fast, and they were drawing steadily farther apart. The only drama lay in who would finish first, but the answer to that was stil more than a day away.

  This time Tilak was the one who looked back. What he saw raised even his unsanguine spirits. "They have broken down!" he shouted.

  Preen Chand slapped the spyglass to his eye. Sure enough, the Iron Elephant was barely limping along. Less smoke poured from the stack, and what there was had changed color.

  The brakemen raised a cheer. "Come on, Caesar!"

  "Go, Hannibal, gal"

  "Run that hunk of tin back to the blacksmith's shop where it belongs!" But Preen Chand kept watching. As he had been certain, Richard Trevithick was rot a man to yield tamely to misfortune. The engine handler worked furiously on his machine. Once he leaped away; Preen Chand saw one of his henchmen rush up to help him bandage his hand. Together they plunged back to their repairs. After a while, the Iron Elephant picked up speed again.

  All the same, Caesar and Hannibal gained on the steam engine with every soep they took. They were pul ing magnificently now, their heads down, their double-curved tusks, bigger by far than those of the Indian elephants Preen Chand's grandfather had fondly remembered, almost dragging the ground.

  A small stream ran not far from the tracks. "They should water themselves," Tilak said.

  Preen Chand haoedto stop for any reason, but knew his friend was right.

  He raised a signal flag to warn the brakemen to stop, cal ed, "Choro!"

  to Caesar. Tilak echoed him. The brakes squealed as they halted. The two elephant drivers unharnessed their beasts and rode them over to the creek. "I'd like to see Trevithick do this when his boiler runs dry,"

  Preen Chand said. Tilak nodded.

  Caesar and Hannibal lowered their trunks into the water. They squiroed it down their throats, a good gal on and a half at a squirt.

  Tilak had been right, they were thirsty. They drank close to thirty gallons each before they slowed down.

  Their exertion had also made them hot. "DeTT-tol!" Preen Chand cal ed:

  "Squirt water on your back." Caesar did. Preen Chand scrambled forward onto the hairy elephant's head to keep from getting soaked.

  As the elephant drivers led their charges back to the train, Caesar and Hannibal used their trunks to uproot a couple of bushes and stuff them into their mouths. They had eaoen well before the race staroed and would be fed again come evening, but they were not the sort of animals to miss any chance for a snack.

  "Mall-mal !" Preen Chand shouted, and the train headed west once more.

  Behind them, the smoke that marked the Iron Elephant sank lower and lower in the east. Finally Preen Chand had to use the spyglass to see it. It never quite disappeared, though, any more than an aching tooth that has stopped hurting for the moment ceases to give little reminders of its prence.

  The farms that ran west along the railway from Spring field began to peoer out. Not many ran east from Carthage; the tracks had reached it only a few years before. Between l the two towns was a broad stretch where the four bands of iron ran through still-virgin prairie.

  A herd of big-horned buffalo grazed north of the tracks.

  It was not one of the huge aggregations of spring or fall, ' when migrating throngs made the ground shake and could delay a train for hours or days as they crossed the rail line.

  Preen Chand knew some of his brakemen were swearing becau the buffalo were out of rifle range. He did not care e l himself; he did not eat beef. l A pronghorn pranced daintily by, a good deal closer than i l the buffalo. A gun barked. Caesar jerked beneath Preen Chand; he heard Paul Tilak cursing and pounding Hanni- 0 hal back under control. S

  a When Preen Chand could spare a moment, he saw the pronghorn lying in the grass, kicking. He raised an eye brow, impressed at the shooting.

  The little antelope was at least as &r away as the sima whole volley had missed on the way to Springfield.

  Several men swung down from the waggons to pick up the pronghorn.

  All but one, presumably the felbw who had kil ed it, had rifles at the ready. The waist-high plains grass could hide almost anything: sims, wolves, a spear fanged cat.

  The brakemen had to run hard to catch up to the train with their booty.

  None of them cal ed to Preen Chand to slow down. They knew what the odds were for that.

  The elephant driver had his cap pulled low to shield his eyes from the westering sun when the train went by anoNer creek. "What do you say we stop here?" Tilak called "Hannibal is tired."

  Preen Chand did not want to stop for anything, but he could feel that Caesar was not pul ing as powerfully as he had earlier in the day.

  The hairy elephants were so large making the same mental calculations he was. "We stay," he said at last. "We can catch them before noon, a few miles outside Carthage. And if we race them now we risk running the elephants into the ground. They worked hard yesoerday, and they need as much rest as they can get."

  The brakemen accepted his decision without argument as he would have taken their word over anything concerning the waggons. Tilak, though, took him aside and said quietly, "I hope we can catch them.

  H
annibal was flagging badly there at the end yRay."

  "Caesar too." Preen Chand hated to make the admission as if saying it out loud somehow made it more real. He was, however, far from giving up hope. "The steam engine has its problems too, I thought it would. If it were running as well as Trevithick claimed it could, it would have been here hours ago."

  "And if it had, we could have waved goodbye to the race."

  "That is true. But it passed us now, not then. We, at least know how far we can hope to go on any given day. What will that smel y piece of ironwork do to schedules?"

  "It has certainly played the very devil with mine." Tilak yawned.

  "I am going back to bed."

  "There, for once, my friend, I cannot argue with you," Preen Chand said.

  His only consolation was reflecting that Trevithick probably needed sleep even more than he did.

  Afoer eating enormously at sunrise, Caesar and Hannibal seemed eager to pull. The train rattled forward at a pace betoer than Preen Chand had expected. The Iron Elephant's plume of smoke, which had shrunk behind them the day before, now grew larger and blacker and stood tal er in the sky as they gained. Only a couple o "What do you say we stop here?"

  Tilak called "Hannibal is tired."

  Preen Chand did not want to stop for anything, but he could feel that Caesar was not pul ing as powerfully as he had earlier in the day.

  The hairy elephants were so large making the same mental calculations he was. "We stay," he said at last. "We can catch them before noon, a few miles outside Carthage. And if we race them now we risk running the elephants into the ground. They worked hard yesoerday, and they need as much rest as they can get."

  The brakemen accepted his decision without argument as he would have taken their word over anything concerning the waggons. Tilak, though, took him aside and said quietly, "I hope we can catch them.

  Hannibal was flagging badly there at the end yRay."

  "Caesar too." Preen Chand hated to make the admission as if saying it out loud somehow made it more real. He was, however, far from giving up hope. "The steam engine has its problems too, I thought it would. If it were running as well as Trevithick claimed it could, it would have been here hours ago."

  "And if it had, we could have waved goodbye to the race."

  "That is true. But it passed us now, not then. We, at least know how far we can hope to go on any given day. What will that smel y piece of ironwork do to schedules?"

  "It has certainly played the very devil with mine." Tilak yawned.

  "I am going back to bed."

  "There, for once, my friend, I cannot argue with you," Preen Chand said.

  His only consolation was reflecting that Trevithick probably needed sleep even more than he did.

  Afoer eating enormously at sunrise, Caesar and Hannibal seemed eager to pull. The train rattled forward at a pace betoer than Preen Chand had expected. The Iron Elephant's plume of smoke, which had shrunk behind them the day before, now grew larger and blacker and stood tal er in the sky as they gained. Only a couple of hours passed until the steam engine's train became visible, a long, black centipede stretched out along its track.

  "Go ahead and run, Richard," Preen Chand called though Trevithick, of course, could not hear. "You cannot run fast enough."

  The engine handler must have seen his rival's train and disliked the raoe at which it was gaining. He must have tied down a safety valve, for more smoke poured from the Iron Elephant's stack. All the same, the flesh-and-blood beasts continued to gain.

  Closer and closer they came. Now they were only a mile behind, now half a mile. And there, heartbreakingly, they stuck. Caesar's and Hannibal's morning burst of energy faded. However much Preen Chand and Paul Tilak urged them on, they could come no closer. And as the elephant . drivers watched and cursed, the Iron Elephant began to pull away once more.

  Preen Chand felt like weeping from frustration. Through his spyglass, the men aboard the Iron Elephant seemed close enough to reach out and touch. Yet as he watched helplessly, they drew ever farther from him.

  He refused to lower the spyglass, cherishing the illusion it gave of a neck and-neck race. And so he was watching stil when the Iron Elephant slid into a pit.

  Preen Chand stared, not believing what he saw. He knew how hastily this stretch of the railbed had been laid; it had only gravel underneath it, not a good solid foundation of stone rammed earth.

  All the same, he had crossed the same stretch of track only a few days before, and there had been no storms since to undermine it.

  But something had. Paul Tilak saw what it was. "Sims!" he shouoed.

  Suddenly and most uncharacteristically, he burst out laughing. "Their trap caught a harder-skinned elephant than they bargained for" Once Preen Chand's attention was diverted from the train ahead, he too saw the subhumans rushing to the attack.

  Some carried wooden spears, their points fire-hardened.

  Others bore clubs, still others held stones chipped sharp that they could throw a long way. He spied the glint of a few axeheads and steel knives, perhaps stolen, perhaps gotten in trade.

  Tilak was right: the sims would not gorge on hairy elephant, as they hoped. But they were not fussy about what they ate, brakeman would do well enough. And with everyone thrown in a heap by the Iron Elephant's sudden and unexpeted stop, only a couple of men were able to shoot at the charging hunoers. After that it was a melee, and the sims were stronger, fiercer, sometimes even better armed than their foes.

  Preen Chand threw up the red flag to warn his crew, then yelled "Choro!"

  as loud as he could. The train stopped "Get Hannibal out of his harness!" he told Paul Tilak. Preen Chand was already unbuckling the thick leather straps that linked Caesar to Hannibal. He stood up on his elephant's back, cal ed to the train crew, "Grab your rifles and climb onto the two beasts. It is a rescue now!"

  The brakemen scrambled down from their waggons and rushed forward.

  Hairy elephants were better haulers than carriers; Caesar and Hannibal could bear only five men apiece. As he had at the Springfield station, Preen Chand made Caesar lift a foreleg to serve as a step. "You, you, you and you," he said, pointing at the first four men to reach him.

  They swarmed onto the elephant.

  Just behind them, Tilak was making a similar chant. Hannibal trumpeted at taking on unfamiliar passengers, but subsided when Tilak thwacked its broad head with the elephant goad.

  "Fol ow us as closely as you can," Preen Chand told the disappointed latecomers from the back of the train. Then he dug in his toe behind Caesar's ear. "Mall-mal !" he shouoed: forward!

  Even with the burden it was carrying, the hairy elephant shot ahead, as if relieved to be free of the burden of the train. Its gait shifted from its usual walk to a pounding rack, with hind and foreleg on the same side of its body advancing together.

  Most of the brakemen had ridden elephants before, but not under circumstances like these. They clutched at Caesar's harness to keep from being pitched off. In spite of everything, one did fall. He rol ed away, clutching his ankle. The hairy elephant's left hind foot missed his head by inches.

  They were a bit more than half a mile from the Iron Elephant, three or four minuoes at the elephants' best pace, which they were certainly making. When they had covered about half the distance, Preen Chand told one brakeman, "You shoot."

  "No chance to hit at this range," the fellow protested.

  "Yes, but we will remind the sims we are coming, and you will be able to reload by the time we get there."

  "Never tried reloading on top of an elephant before," the brakeman said darkly, but he raised the rifle to his shoulder and fired. Caesar trumpeted in surprise. So did Hannibal, a moment later.

  Some of the subhumans had already started to break and run, two carried a man's corpse between them, while another fled with a body slung over its shoulder. But others were still fighting, and one stubbornly kept trying to shove a spear into the metal side of the trapped steam engine
.

  Preen Chand had to stop himself from giggling: Paul Tilak had certainly been right about that.

  Against men, even men carrying firearms, the sims might have kept up the battler at least for a little while. But the hairy elephants were the most fearsome beasts on the plains. The sight of two bearing down like an angry avalanche was too much for the subhumans. They took to their heels, hooting in dismay.

  The last to run off was the one that had tried to slay the Iron Elephant. Baring its teeth in a furious grimace, it hurled a sharp stone at Caesar before seeking to get away. The rock fell far short, but by then the sim was within easy rifle range. Preen Chand's bul et sent it sprawling forward on its face.

  He felt more like a general than like an elephant driver. With gestures and shouted commands, he sent Hannibal and the men he thought of as his foot soldiers after the retreating sims. He walked Caesar up to the head of the rival train.

  The brakeman to the contrary, reloading on elephant back was possible, but then, Preen Chand had more practice at it than the other man did. He fired at a sim. To his disgust, he missed; Many sims were down now, either dead or under cover in hollows the tal grass concealed.

  The railroad men moved up cautiously. A couple went ahead to reclaim a body the sims had dropped in their flight. Preen Chand was dismayed to see no sign of the corpse the pair of sims had been carrying; the subhumans who survived this raid, curse them, would not go altogether hungry.

  The elephant driver wondered if the body was Trevithick's. He had yet to spot the steam-engine man, and he was close to the upended Iron Elephant. After digging their pit under the rails, the sims had covered it with branches and then covered them over with dirt and gravel so they looked like the rest of the roadbed. Preen Chand shivered. He might well have led Caesar straight into the trap.

  He got down from the hairy elephant, walked over to the hole in the ground. The rails had buckled as they tried and failed to support the Iron Elephant. It was tilted at a steep angle, almost nose down in the pit. A real elephant, which did not carry its weight on the rails, would have taken a worse fall.