David Weber - The Road to Hell

That was good, but the erosion of his Bison strength meant that Brigade-Captain chan Sharys’ 3rd Brigade had actually lost ground. As of the latest Voice report, his lead regiment remained almost two hundred miles short of the Nairsom-Thermyn portal, waiting out a bitter late-spring blizzard. The Weather Hounds predicted that would take at least three days, and even after the weather cleared, he’d make slower going than the rest of 2nd Brigade, thanks to the newly fallen snow and-even more-to his relative shortage of transport.

Well, two brigades ought to be enough to be going on with , he told himself. And look on the bright side. If we hit a snag getting across Coyote Canyon there’ll be plenty of time for him to catch up with us. Hells, there’ll be time for chan Bykahlar’s infantry to catch up with us!

“Chan Malthyn’s left Battalion-Captain chan Hyul at High Rock City to mind the store while he moved up to Battalion-Captain chan Yahndar’s command group,” chan Quay continued, “and chan Yahndar still has chan Mahsdyr’s Gold Company out in front. According to chan Malthyn’s last Voice message, Gold Company’s actually on the rim of Coyote Canyon now.”

“Ah?” Chan Geraith looked up. “When did that come in?”

“About fifteen minutes ago, Sir.” Chan Quay grinned. “I thought I’d just save that news to give it to you personally.”

“It’s a little late for a Midwinter gift, but I’ll take it,” chan Geraith replied with an answering grin. 3rd Brigade might have been delayed, but chan Malthyn was thirty-six hours ahead of schedule. “Any sign the Arcanans’ve been poking around the bridging site?”

“None, Sir.” Chan Quay shook his head.

“Good,” chan Geraith said. “Good.”

Of course, dragons flying overhead wouldn’t leave any convenient tracks for chan Mahsdyr’s men to spot, but if the Arcanans had noticed the preparation work TTE’s advanced construction parties had done they would almost certainly have landed to inspect it in person. Or that was what Sharonians would have done, anyway. Gods only knew what sort of “magic” Arcanans might use to carry out detailed reconnaissance!

Stop that! he told himself firmly. You’ve already had plenty of evidence that there are limits to what they can do. Don’t start giving them godlike powers at this stage!

“Is the site in good shape?” he asked out loud.

“Chan Hurmahl says it is, Sir.” Chan Quay straightened and propped his hands on his hips as he and his superior gazed down at the crooked blue line of the Stone Carve River.

Coyote Canyon was scarcely the equal of the enormous chasm of Vothan’s Canyon, a hundred miles farther south, but it was still a dauntingly impressive terrain obstacle. Fortunately, the Trans-Temporal Express had realized it would have to bridge Coyote if it meant to run a line across Thermyn to New Uromath. It had already done that in one other universe, and its engineers had chosen to use the same location in Thermyn. It wasn’t at the closest spot to Fort Ghartoun and the New Uromath portal, but TTE was intimately familiar with its terrain. The best news from chan Geraith’s perspective were the steep, rough ramps crews staged through Fort Ghartoun had already blasted down from the lip of the canyon. They’d been intended to get construction equipment down to river level when the time came to build the bridge pylons, and anywhere construction crews could go, his Bisons and Steel Mules could go…when they weren’t broken down, at any rate.

“Has Battalion-Captain chan Hurmahl been able to evaluate the water level?” he asked after a moment.

“He says the river’s a little higher than we’d hoped but not enough to make problems. He’s confident he can throw the bridge across within forty-eight to seventy-two hours once chan Grosvar catches up with Second Battalion and hands over the bridging material.”

Chan Geraith nodded again, stroking his mustache with a thoughtful index finger. The construction crews who’d blasted the gaps into Coyote Canyon’s walls had also surveyed the riverbed itself. The Trans-Temporal Express and Portal Authority had learned the hard way that terrain was never identical from universe to universe. It was usually very similar, enough so that routes could be picked from maps with a fair degree of certainty, but the gods clearly delighted in variations on a theme. Even without the often bizarre effects generated in proximity to portals, each universe enjoyed its own subtly different but always unique geological history. In this instance, the painstaking survey of the Stone Carve had allowed the fabrication of steel supports and a plate steel roadway that would allow chan Hurmahl’s men to throw a bridge capable of supporting Bisons and Steel Mules across the rocky riverbed. Chan Geraith didn’t like to contemplate the amount of labor involved, but in addition to his own battalion of highly trained engineers, chan Hurmahl could draft additional bone and brawn from chan Quay’s entire brigade. In theory, that gave him three thousand more strong backs, and when the rest of the division came up, he’d have the next best thing to ten thousand additional sets of hands available.

Of course, if it takes that long, there’s a really good chance of the Arcanans happening by overhead, isn’t there? the division-captain thought, then snorted harshly. There you go, looking for problems again!

March 26

The racket, the heat, and the humidity hit with the force of a hammer as Brigade-Captain chan Bykahlar climbed down from the rail car. It had been hot enough inside the car-the “air-conditioning” available for luxury rail traffic back home was a relatively recent development, and the Trans-Temporal Express didn’t send its most sophisticated rolling stock to the arse-end of nowhere-but at least the train’s steady motion had driven a cooling breeze through the cars’ open windows and wind scoops. Now that breeze had disappeared, and the steam bath of the Dalazan rain forest had to be experienced to be believed.

The racket, on the other hand, was purely man-made. No self-respecting jungle bird or animal would have been caught dead within ten miles of the railbed being driven through the primeval jungle. The sheer volume of noise produced by steam locomotives, steam bulldozers and graders, steamrollers, track cars delivering endless lengths of rail, sledgehammers, wrenches, steam drills, rivet guns, and the occasional roar of explosives from the advanced parties had sent any local wildlife packing in short order.

At the moment, the railhead was two hundred-plus miles farther north than it had been when 3rd Brigade embarked for its trans-Vandor crossing and it was being driven steadily farther even as he watched. The TTE’s track-laying crews, with well over three-quarters of a million miles of railroad construction on their logbooks, were the most experienced in human history. When they decided to drive a railhead, it advanced at a rate which had to be seen to be believed, and the current railhead was the site of yet another burgeoning supply dump. The same trains whose troop cars had moved chan Bykahlar’s regiments forward had hauled enormous loads of freight along with them. Now TTE’s steam-powered mobile cranes were transferring that freight to the existing mountain of supplies, where a fresh line of steam drays and Bisons with their enormous trailers waited to haul it yet farther down-chain towards 5th Corps advancing spearhead.

“This way, Sir!”

Chan Bykahlar turned his head at the sound of Battalion-Captain chan Klaisahn’s shout. The brigade’s chief of staff had located-or possibly stolen-a Steel Mule with a boxy superstructure built over its cargo bed. The brigade-captain recognized one of the mobile command posts Division-Captain chan Geraith had ordered fitted up, and he eyed it a bit sourly. Certainly it would be nice to have those walls’ protection once they hit the weather waiting for them in Nairsom, but chan Bykahlar was an officer of the old school. The proper means of transport for an Army officer was either his own two feet or the saddle of a Shikowr. He fully appreciated the theoretical advantages of moving companies, battalions-even entire divisions-at the speeds steam made possible, but he had his doubts about how restful the ride would be over the so-called “roads” which had been hacked out by the engineers.