by throwing off another huge chunk of itself. Apparently satisfied, the Bug edged away.
'DEFECTIVE COMPONENT CONFIRMED. NEVERTHELESS, YOU WILL PROCEED TO THE NEXT SECTION. WE WILL ASSIST.'
I squelched the mike. 'Goddammit,' I said. 'Sam? Can you think of anything?'
'Ask him why,' Sam said. 'Ask nice.'
I reopened the mike. 'We respectfully request the reasons for your order.'
'YOUR RECENT CONDUCT ON THIS SECTION HAS BEEN DEEMED POTENTIALLY DISRUPTIVE OF TRAFFIC FLOW. YOU MUST BE SEPARATED FROM YOUR OPPONENTS.'
'We were fired on without provocation.'
'THAT IS OF NO CONCERN. YOU WILL PROCEED TO THE NEXT SECTION OF ROAD. INCREASE YOUR SPEED AND PREPARE FOR TRANSITION. YOUR OPPONENTS WILL NOT FOLLOW.'
'Dammit it! I said we'd be stranded?'
'THAT IS OF NO CONCERN. END OF TRANSMISSION.'
'Fuck you.' Sometimes I prefer good old Anglo-Saxon.
The Roadbug dropped back, moved behind us, and inched up until it was tailgating.
'And we don't even get a phonecall to our solicitor,' Sam said.
I nodded and heaved a sigh. We were being sentenced, banished to the far side of a potluck portal with no hope of appeal. I had heard of Roadbugs doing this, but had never thought it would happen to me. I looked back at my passengers.
Well, it wasn't only happening to me. I looked at the road ahead. The cylinders were almost upon us. I had no choice. It was either shoot the potluck?the Roadbug version, of a commuted death sentence?or get smeared.
But there still was the matter of the failed roller. As our speed increased, it began tossing off pieces of itself with abandon, trailing a snowy plume of powder. This might be a death sentence after all. That roller was ready to break apart any moment.
'Take her through at minimum speed, son. Steady as she goes.'
'Right. I'll need every assist.'
'I'm right with you.'
'Dad, I don't think we're going to make it this time.'
'I'll be with you every step of the way, son.'
The instrument panel was adance with flashing red lights. The landscape whizzed by in a purple blur.
'People,' I announced. 'No way I can take this rig through a portal with a failed roller. Unless the Bug makes good on the assist promise?and I don't see how he can?this could be it. I thought you should know.'
I glanced back again. Susan was white-upped and pale, John grim but steady-eyed.
'We'll make it, Jake,' Roland told me. 'We have to.'
'Do our best.'
Darla…
I turned around once more. Darla was smiling at me! Those ionospheric blue eyes glowed with the strangest light. I saw eternity in them. My destiny.
I blinked my eyes and the smile was gone. I had glanced back for the barest fraction of a second. Now I wasn't sure if I had seen her smile at all.
The rig lurched to the left and I fought to keep us on the road. The commit markers?two red-painted-metal rods to either side of the roadbed?went by almost before I caught sight of them. I had to straighten out… now!
The roller started breaking up, deep fracture lines opening up along its surface, shooting out blizzards of white powder.
'Dad! Is there anything on the other side?'
'Of the portal?'
'No. Life.'
Sam didn't have rime to answer. Suddenly… everything was normal.
It was as if a huge hand had grabbed the rig and steadied it. Warning lights still flashed, the roller continued its breakup, but our course was true and steady. We were right in the groove. The guide lane markers came up and we were smack in the middle of them. The cylinders marched by, two by two, then the aperture assumed its vague shape out of the optical miasma ahead. We slid neatly into it.
Then the Roadbug let us go. The roller flew apart in an explosion of snow and ice, sending the rig careening toward the wind-combed dunes lying along the road. We hit sand and the sudden deceleration popped our eyeballs and crushed our chests. I hit the antifishtail jets, torqued up the antijacknife servo and kept us straight for a hundred meters. Angular momentum was conserving all over the place, dragging us back in the direction of the roadway, but the trailer didn't want to follow. The cab bumped over the lip of the berm. I straightened out, but the trailer still angled to the left, burying its back end into the sand. It would either tip over or fall in behind eventually. I didn't wait for it to make up its mind; I accelerated, flipped up the safety door covering the quick-release toggle and reached in, crooking two fingers over the ring. Gradually, the trailer swung back into line. I braked-which was a very difficult proposition because there was almost nothing left of the bad roller. Stripped to its yellow, spongy core, it whumped and bumped over the road, flop flop flop flop flop flop, again causing us to veer to the left. I had no intention of going off road again. I disconnected the front rollers from the braking system and juiced up the rear set. But it was still rough going. The cab shifted suddenly, listing to the left, and sparks began to fly as the edge of the ground-effect vane touched roadmetal. I was able to handle the drag factor, though, and we were coasting nicely to stop when the Roadbug lost patience and whoosed by us in an incredible burst of acceleration.
I don't remember what happened next, exactly. We were all over the road, then we were in the sand again, then out of it, and back in once more. Plumes of yellow sand arced up, covering the forward port.
Finally, we came to a stop. The side port was clear, and I could see that we were more or less upright. The front end was buried halfway up the aerodynamic engine housing. I activated the washers on the front ports and soon we could see ahead. The rig had run itself aground with a vengeance. Ordinarily, this would have presented no difficulty. With two good front rollers, we could detach the trailer, tow it out, then hack the cab out with no problem-if we had a tow truck, and if we had two good front rollers.
Out on the road, Carl came screeching to a stop, pulling off onto the shoulder lane.
'Jake, are you guys okay?'
I looked back. Nobody seemed to be damaged. Everybody nodded. 'Yeah, we're okay. Considering.'
'What about Sean and Liam?'
'Holy shit!'
Roland had already unstrapped and was making his way to the aft-cabin. I tore off my harness and followed.
'Roland, wait' I said. 'Sam! How's the air out there?'
'Earth normal!'
'Unbelievable. Luck at last. Roland, you go out through the cabin and try to get in through the back door. I'll go through the crawl tube. There may be damage back there.'
'Right!'
I unbolted the hatch, got down on all fours, and scurried through the accordion-walled access tube. The far hatch was okay. I undogged it, slid through, did a somersault and got to my feet. It was dark. I smelled smoke, but couldn't see any damage back in the egg-crate section. I jumped over a few boxes, slithered through a maze of crates, sidling my way to the rear. There was daylight coming from back there.
'Have a beer, Jake?'
Sean and Liam lay sprawled in a jumble of boxes and loose junk. Beer bottles had broken, foam creeping everywhere. Their roadster was covered with debris, but otherwise undamaged. Sean sat up, waving an unbroken bottle in salute.
Roland came climbing over the junk.
'Are they all right?'
'Right you are, Roland, my friend!' Sean called. He broke the neck of the bottle against a metal crate, put the jagged end to his lips and took a drink.
