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.
“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.”
