Wheelworld Page 15

  “If you make some coffee I’ll wash up and change. That was not a job I would like to do again.”

  “It’s all finished then?”

  “All except getting the trains over. I’ve emptied everyone out of the first one and as soon as I finish this I’ll take it through.”

  “Couldn’t someone else drive it? Why does it have to be you?”

  Jan drank his coffee in silence, then put down the empty cup and stood. “You know why. Ride in the second train and I’ll see you on the other side.”

  There was fear in her tight-clamped arms, but she said nothing more as she kissed him, then watched him leave. She wanted to ride with him, but knew what his answer would be without asking. He would do this alone.

  With the automatic guidance disconnected the train turned away from the center of the Road toward the raw gash that had been slashed through the burnt jungle. The engine left the smooth Road surface and rose and fell as it ground along. Obediently, one by one, the cars tracked behind it, following in its deep-cut wheel tracks.

  “So far no problems,” Jan said into the microphone. “Bumpy but not bad at all. I’m holding at five K’s all the way. I want the other drivers to do the same.”

  He didn’t stop when he came to the filled-in fissure but ground steadily forward out onto its surface. Under the pressure of the engine’s weight, stones and gravel cracked free from the sides of the embankment and rattled into the depths. On both sides the tank drivers watched in tense silence. Jan looked down from the height of the engine and could see the far edge approaching slowly; on either side there was only emptiness. He kept his eyes fixed on the edge and the engine centered in the very middle of the dike.

  “He’s over!” Otakar shouted into his radio. “All cars tracking well. No subsidence visible.”

  Reaching the Road again was an easy task, once the tension of the crossing was behind. He pulled the train to the far side and ran forward until all of the cars were in the clear. Only then did he pull on his coldsuit and change over to the tank that had followed him.

  “Let’s get back to the gap,” he ordered, then turned to the radio. “We’re going to bring the trains over one at a time, slowly. I want only one train at a time on the new sections so we can reach it easily in case of difficulties. All right—start the second one now.”

  He was waiting at the edge of the chasm when the train appeared, clouds of dust and smoke billowing out from under its wheel. The driver kept his engine centered on the wheel marks of Jan’s train on the embankment and crossed without difficulty and went on. The next train and the next crossed, and they came in a steady stream after that.

  It was the thirteenth train that ran into trouble.

  “Lucky thirteen,” Jan said to himself as it appeared on the far edge. He rubbed his sore eyes and yawned.

  The engine came on and was halfway over when it started to tilt. Jan grabbed for the microphone, but before he could say anything there was a subsidence, and the engine tilted more and more in massive slow motion.

  Then it was gone, suddenly. Over the edge and down, with the cars hurtling after it one after another in a string of death, crashing to the bottom in an immense bursting cloud of debris with car after car folded one after the other in a crushed mass of destruction.

  No one came out of the wreck alive. Jan was one of the first who was lowered down at the end of a cable to search among the horribly twisted metal. Others joined him, and they searched in silence under the unending glare of the sun, but found nothing. In the end they abandoned the search, leaving the dead men entombed in the ruins. The embankment was repaired, strengthened, compacted. The other trains crossed without trouble and, once they were assembled on the Road, the return trek began.

  No one spoke the thought aloud, but they all felt it. It had to be worth it, the corn, bringing it from pole to pole of the planet. The men’s deaths had to mean something. The ships had to come. They were late—but they had to come.

  They were familiar with the Road now, weary of it. The water crossing was made, the kilometers rolled by steadily, the sun shone through unending heat, and the trip went on. There were delays, breakdowns, and two cars were cannibalized for parts and left behind. And one more tank. The output of all the engines was dropping steadily so that they had to run at slower speed than usual.

  It was not joy that possessed them when they came out of sunshine into the twilight, but rather more the end of a great weariness and the desire to rest at last. They were no more than ten hours away from their destination when Jan called a halt.

  “Food and drinks,” he said. “We need some kind of celebration.”

  They agreed on that, but it was a subdued party at best. Alzbeta sat next to Jan and, while no one there envied them, the men looked forward to the next day, and wives of their own who were waiting. They had been in touch with Southtown by radio, so the seven dead men in their metal tomb were known to those who were waiting.

  “This is a party, not a wake,” Otakar said. “Drink up your beer and I’ll pour you another.”

  Jan drained his glass as instructed and held it out for a refill. “I’m thinking about the arrival,” he said.

  “We all are, but more so you and I,” Alzbeta said, moving closer at the thought of separation. “She can’t take you from me.”

  She did not have to be named. The Hradil, absent so long, was close again, ready to affect their lives.

  “We are all with you,” Otakar told them. “We were all witnesses at your wedding and were part of it. The Family Heads may protest but there is nothing they can do. We’ve made them see reason before—we can do it again. Semenov will back us up.”

  “This is my fight,” Jan said.

  “Ours. It has been since we took over the engines and made them knuckle under for the second trip. We can do that again if we have to.”

  “No, Otakar, I don’t think so.” Jan looked down the smooth length of the Road that vanished at the horizon. “We had something to fight for then. Something physical that affected all of us. The Hradil will try to cause trouble but Alzbeta and I will handle it.”

  “And me,” Semenov said. “I will have to explain my actions, account for them. It is against the law …”

  “The law as written here,” Jan said. “A little work of fiction to keep the natives subdued and quiet.”

  “Will you tell them that, all the things you told me?”

  “I certainly will. I’ll tell the Heads and I’ll tell everyone else. The truth has to come out sometime. They probably won’t believe it, but they’ll be told.”

  After they slept they went on. Jan and Alzbeta had little rest, nor did they want it. They felt closer than they had ever been and their lovemaking had a frantic passion to it. Neither spoke of it, but they feared for the future.

  They had good cause. There was no reception, no crowds to welcome them. The men understood that. They talked a bit, said goodbye to one another, then went to find their families. Jan and Alzbeta stayed on the train, watching the door. They did not have long to wait for the expected knock. There were four armed Proctors there.

  “Jan Kulozik, you are under arrest … .”

  “Under whose authority? For what reason?”

  “You have been accused of murdering Proctor Captain Ritterspach.”

  “That can be explained, witnesses—”

  “You will come with us to detention. Those are our orders. This woman is to be returned to her family at once.”

  “No!”

  It was Alzbeta’s cry of terror that roused Jan. He tried to go to her, protect her, but was shot at once. A weak charge, minimum setting for the energy gun, enough to stop him but not kill him.

  He lay on the floor, conscious but unable to move, able only to watch as they dragged her out.

  Seventeen

  It was obvious to Jan that his homecoming reception had been planned with infinite care and sadistic precision. The Hradil, of course. Once before she had had him arrested,
but the job had been bungled. Not this time. She had not revealed herself, but her careful touch was everywhere. No reception for their return, no crowds. No chance to unite his men and the others behind him. Divide and rule, most skillfully done. A murder charge, that was good, a man had been killed so the charge was certainly in order. And he had resisted arrest just to make her job easier, just as she had undoubtedly assumed he would. She had out-thought him and she had won. She was out there drawing the web tight around him, while he sat in the carefully prepared cell. No rude storeroom this time, that might arouse sympathy, but proper quarters in one of the thick-walled permanent buildings. A barred, narrow slit of a window on the outside wall, sink and sanitary facilities, a comfortable bunk, reading matter, television—and a solid steel door with a lock on the other side. Jan lay on the bunk staring unseeingly at the ceiling, looking for a way out. He felt the eyes of the Proctor on him, staring in through the plasteel observation window in the wall, and he rolled to face away.

  There would be a trial. If it were at all fair his plea of self-defense would have to be accepted. Five Family Heads would be the judges, that was the law, and all would have to agree on a sentence of guilty. Semenov, one of the oldest Heads, would sit on the bench. There was a chance.

  “You have a visitor,” the guard said, his voice rasping from the speaker just below the window. He moved aside and Alzbeta stood in his place.

  Happy as he was to see her it was torture to press his hands to the cold plasteel surface, to see her fingers a close centimeter beyond his, yet to be unable to touch them.

  “I asked to see you,” she said. “I thought they would say no, but there was no trouble.”

  “Of course. No lynch parties this time. She learns by her mistakes. This time by the book, by the rule of law and order. Visitors allowed, why of course. Final verdict, guilty, of course.”

  “There has to be a chance. You will fight?”

  “Don’t I always?” He forced himself to smile, for her sake, and was answered by the slightest smile in return. “There is really no case. You witnessed the attack, were struck yourself, the other Proctors will have to agree with that under oath. They had all the clubs, I fought back when you were struck down. Ritterspach’s death was accidental—they’ll have to admit that. I’ll defend myself, but there is one thing you can do to help me.”

  “Anything!”

  “Get me a copy of the legal tapes that I can play on the TV here. I want to bone up on the niceties of the Book of the Law. Build a strong case.”

  “I’ll bring them as soon as I can. They said I could bring you food; I’ll cook something special. And another thing,” she looked sideways out of the corners of her eyes, then lowered her voice. “You have friends. They want to help you. If you were out of here …”

  “No! Tell them no as emphatically as you can. I don’t want to escape. I’m enjoying the rest. Not only is there no place to hide on this planet, but I want to do this the right way. Defeat that woman by law. It is the only way.”

  He did not tell Alzbeta that undoubtedly every word they spoke through the communicator was being recorded. He did not want anyone getting into trouble on his account. And basically what he said was true. This had to be done the legal way now. If he had to communicate, there were ways. The cell was clear, there were no visual bugs. She could read a note if he held it up to the observation window. He would save that for any emergencies.

  They talked more but there was little to say. The ache of being close to her without touching her was becoming unbearable and he was relieved when the guard told her it was time to go.

  His second visitor was Hyzo Santos. The communications officer was undoubtedly well aware that their talk would be listened to and kept their conversation on neutral grounds.

  “Alzbeta tells me you are enjoying your rest, Jan.”

  “I have little choice, do I?”

  “Make the most of the quiet, you’ll be back in action soon enough. I brought that copy of the Book of the Law that you asked about. I guess the guard will give it to you.”

  “My thanks. I’ll want to study it closely.”

  “Very closely, if I were you.” Hyzo’s scowl deepened. “There have been some meetings of Family Heads. Only rumors of course, but there was an announcement this morning, and the rumors are true. Ivan Semenov is no longer Head of his family.”

  “They can’t do that!”

  “They can, and they did. You’ll find the process described in your copy of the Book of the Law. He broke the law when he officiated at Alzbeta’s marriage without The Hradil’s permission. Poor Semenov is stripped of all rank and title. He’s working as a cook’s helper.”

  “The marriage is still valid, isn’t it?” Jan asked worriedly.

  “Absolutely. Nothing can touch that. A marriage bond is a marriage bond and completely unbreakable as you know. But, the judges have been chosen for the trial … .”

  Sudden realization shook Jan. “Of course. He’s no longer a Family Head so Semenov won’t be there. It will be The Hradil and four more of her kind.”

  “I’m afraid so. But justice will be seen to be done. No matter how prejudiced they are they can’t go against the law in open court. You have a lot of people on your side.”

  “And a lot more who are looking forward to me getting it in the neck, too.”

  “You’ve said it yourself. You can’t change people overnight. Even though there are changes going on, the people don’t like it. This is a conservative world and people, for the most part, are troubled by change. That’s on your side now. This trial will be a legal one and you will have to get off.”

  “I wish I shared your enthusiasm.”

  “You will as soon as you have eaten some of the chicken and dumpling stew Alzbeta sent with the tape. That is if the jailers leave you any of it after it is searched for weapons.”

  All according to law. No doubts about it. Then why was he so worried? There were less than seven days left to the trial and Jan busied himself with a study of the Book of the Law which, admittedly, he had never looked at very closely before. It proved to be a simplified version of Earth Commonwealth law. A great deal had been pruned away—there was certainly no need to go into the details of illegal counterfeiting on a world without money. Or space barratry. But ironclad additions had been written into it that gave the Family Heads the power of absolute rule. What little bits of personal freedom had been in the original were totally missing here.

  On the day of the trial Jan shaved carefully, then pulled on the clean clothes that had been brought for him. He carefully pinned on his badge of rank. He was Maintenance Captain and he wanted everyone to remember it. When the guards came he was ready to go, almost eager. But he drew back when they produced the wristcuffs.

  “No need for those,” he said. “I’m not going to attempt to escape.”

  “Orders,” the Proctor said, Scheer, the same one Jan had felled with the club. He stood out of range with his gun raised. There was no point in resisting. Jan shrugged and held out his arms.

  It was more like a feast day than a trial. The law said that anyone could attend a public trial—and it looked like the entire population had decided to do just that. There was little work to be done since the seed corn had not been planted. So they came, all of them, filling the Central Way from side to side. Family groups, with food and drink, prepared for a long siege. But there were no children there: under the age of sixteen they were forbidden to attend trials because of the banned things that might be said. So the older children were watching the younger ones and hating it.

  No building could have held this crowd so the trial would take place outdoors, under the changeless twilight sky. A platform had been erected with seats for judges and defendant. A speaker system had been hooked up so that everyone could hear. There was a carnival feeling in the air, some free entertainment so they could all forget their troubles. And the ships that never came.

  Jan climbed the flight of steps and sat
down in the box, then examined the judges. The Hradil, of course. Her presence there had been as assured as the law of gravity. And Chun Taekeng, Senior Elder, his place guaranteed as well. An unexpected face, old Krelshev. Of course—he would have taken over as Elder when Semenov was unseated. A man of no intelligence and lesser nerve. A tool like the other two sitting next to him. The Hradil was the only one that counted today. She was leaning toward them, instructing them no doubt, then straightened up and turned to face Jan. The wrinkled face cold as ever, the eyes unemotional icy pits. But she smiled when she looked at him, ever so slightly, but undoubtedly there, though vanished in an instant. A victory smile; she was so sure of herself. Jan forced himself not to react, to sit in stony and expressionless silence. Any emotion he displayed during this trial could only do him harm. But he still wondered what she was smiling at. It was not long before he found out.

  “Silence, silence in the court,” The Hradil called out, and her amplified voice spread down the Central Way, bouncing from the buildings on each side. She said it just once and the response was instant. This was a most serious moment.

  “We are here today to judge one of our number,” she said. “Jan Kulozik, the Maintenance Captain. Grave charges have been leveled and this court has been assembled. I ask the technician, is the recorder operating?”

  “It is.”

  “Then proper records will be kept. Let the record show that Kulozik was accused by Proctor Scheer of murdering Proctor Captain Ritterspach. This is a grave charge and the Elders in conference investigated the matter. It was discovered that witnesses to the so-called murder differed with Proctor Scheer. It appears that Ritterspach died when Kulozik was defending himself from an unprovoked attack. Self-defense is not a crime. Therefore it was deduced that the death was accidental, and charges of murder have been dropped. Proctor Scheer has been admonished for his enthusiasm.”

  What did it mean? The crowd was just as much at a loss as Jan was and a murmur swept through the watchers, silenced when The Hradil lifted her hand. Jan did not like it. All he knew was that with the charges dismissed he was still cuffed. And that oaf Scheer had the nerve to be grinning at him. Admonished and now smiling? More was going on here than was apparent and Jan was determined to strike first. He stood and leaned close to the microphone.