To The Stars

They let it rest there; there was no simple answer. The trek continued, along the chain of islands, along the planed mountain peaks. At times they could see the ocean on both sides and, from this high up, it almost looked attractive. The teeming life could not be seen, just the white tops and the marching rows of waves. Very soon a blur on the horizon grew to a long range of mountains. Before they arrived at the southern continent Jan ordered a full eight hour stop. All running gear, tires, brakes, wheels, were inspected and all of the air filters cleaned again, though they did not need it. Another jungle was ahead and there would be no stopping. It was not as wide as the one north of the island chain, but was just as virulent.

This was the last barrier, the last trial. They went through it in three days, without stopping, and into the tunnel beyond. When the last train was well inside the tunnel they halted to rest, then drove on short hours later. This was the longest of the tunnels, for it penetrated the entire range. When they emerged into sunlight again they were surrounded by desert, sand and rock glinting in the lights of their headlights. Jan checked the outside air temperature.

“Ninety-five degrees. We’ve done it. We’re through. Ryzo, contact all drivers. We’re going to stop for one hour. They can open the doors. Anyone who wants to go out can. Just warn them about touching metal; it might still be hot.”

It was holiday, release from captivity, excitement. All down the rows of the trains doors crashed open and the exodus began. The ladders rattled to the hard surface of the Road and people called to each other as they climbed down. It was hot and uncomfortable — but it was freedom after the cramped discomfort of the cars. They were all there, men, women and children, walking up and down in the light from the windows and the headlights of the trucks. Some of the children ran to the edge of the Road to dig in the sand and Jan had to issue orders to discipline them. Other than the lumpers there was little of danger in the barren desert, but he could risk no more accidents. He gave them an hour and by that time most of them, tired and sweat-drenched, were back in the air conditioned cars. After a night’s rest they pressed on.

The brief autumn of the Halvmork year was almost over and the further south they went the shorter the days became. Soon the sun would not rise at all and the southern hemisphere winter would begin, four Earth years of twilight. The growing season.

As the desert swept past the windows of the cars, the passengers forgot all their discomforts and even suggested longer driving days. They would be home soon and that would be the end of their troubles.

Jan, driving the lead engine, saw the posts first. The sun sat on the horizon and the shadows were long. For days now there had only been the unchanging sand and rock of the desert. The change was abrupt. A row of fence posts flashed by marking the limits of a baked and cracked field. First one, then another came into view, the outlying farms. There was cheering down the lengths of all the trains.

“That’s a relief,” Otakar said. “Here at last. I was beginning to get tired.”

Jan was not cheering, or even smiling. “You are going to be a lot more tired before this is all over. We have to unload the corn and turn the trains around.”

“Don’t remind me. You’re going to hear a lot of grumbling.”

“Let them. If this planet is to have any future at all it will be because we have the corn here when the ships arrive.”

“If,” Alzbeta said.

“Yes, there’s always the if. But we have to act as though it will happen. Because it will be the end of everything if the ships don’t come at all. But we can worry about that later. I don’t mean to be the skeleton at the feast. Let’s stop these trains on the Central Way, set the brakes and see if we can’t have a party tonight. I think everyone is in the mood for one. We can begin unloading the corn after a good night’s sleep.”

The party was very much in the order of things, there were no complaints about that. With the air temperature now down in the 80s it could be held outside, with elbow room and freedom for everyone. When the trains halted for the last time between the rows of barren foundations the doors burst open. Jan watched them swarming out into the twilight, then climbed slowly down the rungs from the driving compartment.